When It All Ends
by MidwinterDaydream
Summary: Post DA2. Hawke, Isabela and Fenris leave Kirkwall for Denerim. They soon find themselves entangled with Warden-Commander Sabriel Mahariel as she investigates the link between the fifth Blight and the recent occurrences in Kirkwall. Rated M for Safety.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey All,**

**This is my first time actually posting something I have written for the whole world to see (I have quite a substantial number of fanfictions…but most are just horribly written messes that should never see the light of day. Ever.)**

**I'd appreciate any and all feedback**

**Disclaimer: Bioware owns all**

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><p>The city grew larger as the boat neared the port, the captain's voice calling out above the cries of the seagulls and the creaking of timber. She had only taken command of the ship a few months ago but she already had most of the crew under her thumb, her seductive smile and poorly hidden assets winning half of them almost instantly.<p>

A few had tried their luck with their new captain but her well placed dagger or a threatening look from her lover as he hefted his greatsword over his shoulder culled most lewd thoughts.

"It is very different from Kirkwall." Hawke said conversationally to the elf beside him as he regarded the growing city.

"Feeling homesick Hawke?" the elf asked as he lent against the balustrade next to the Champion.

The man snorted, "Hardly," he replied, turning so that his back faced the city, his golden eyes seeking out the woman at the helm "though it is an odd feeling returning to Ferelden after all this time."

"Have you ever been to Denerim?" Fenris asked; eyes still glued to the city.

"No." came Hawke's reply. "It'll be just like when I arrived in Kirkwall all over again," the man continued, "although, the company's changed since then."

Fenris flicked his eyes over to Hawke then to the Champion's lover, Isabela, behind him. He himself was now in a very different situation from what he had been when he first arrived in the City of Chains – so much had happened in those years.

"We're going to pretty much rely on Isabela when we reach the port." Hawke said with a sigh "Maker forbid some of the places she is going to take us – knowing her some of the places she frequented in Denerim were probably less than…savory."

Fenris grinned at the exasperation in the man's voice "Which means we are going to end up staying at a brothel." He said dryly.

Hawke groaned loudly "I know. As long as there are no elves like Jethann I think I will be able to deal with it."

Fenris recalled the male elf who had worked in the Blooming Rose in Kirkwall. Fenris had been present when Hawke had gone to meet the elf about some man's missing wife. In less than a minute in conversation with the elf, Hawke had been ready to run for the hills after being hit upon by the elf in at least every second sentence. Varric and Isabela had found the whole encounter with the elf immensely funny but if Fenris had been in Hawke's position he could not have promised that Jethann would have lived long enough to finish the conversation.

"Let us hope that we stay somewhere which is not a brothel." Fenris replied; although he knew that all his hoping would probably be in vain.

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><p>After docking her new pride and joy, Isabela had led Hawke and Fenris away from the port into the city. She led them through the streets before stopping outside a building, arms held out wide as she gestured to the place.<p>

"This is where we shall be staying gentlemen." She said with a flourish.

Fenris eyed the faded sign that hung above the door; once again glad he had taken up Hawke's offer to teach him to read "The Pearl?"

"That's right, whenever I'm in Denerim this is where I stay." Isabela said with a wink.

"Which means this place is a brothel." Fenris commented flatly.

The pirate made a sound of indignation "Why do you always assume that the only places I stay are brothels? When we were in Kirkwall I stayed at the Hanged Man and that wasn't a brothel."

"But you used to frequent the Blooming Rose." Hawke added.

Her golden gaze slid across to her lover and she ran a hand down his arm "But that was before I met you sweet." She purred, "But yes, the Pearl is a brothel – one of the classier ones mind you."

Hawke let out a long sigh "Isabela."

"Oh come on." Her seductive grin appeared "It is not that bad and it's not like they're going to be throwing themselves at you here – as I said, this place is classy, they don't display their wares to just anyone."

"I fail to see how a brothel can be 'classy'." Fenris didn't even try to hide the disdain in his voice.

"If you are unsatisfied then you can just go find your own place to stay." Isabela grinned wickedly knowing fully well that he would rather wander around aimlessly for hours than to ask a stranger for directions, and with dusk drawing nearer he would probably be searching all night.

She smirked as the elf let out a little grow of frustration, leaving her lover's side as she strolled towards the door to the establishment.

Fenris felt a hand clasp his shoulder and looked up at Hawke who smiled grimly.

"We'll go and try to find another place to stay tomorrow." He told the elf, "just bear with it for now."

Fenris let out a long sigh before following the man into the Pearl.

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><p>While he had been surprised at how conservative the Pearl had been (although having conservative and brothel in the same sentence seem ironic), the heavy perfume and smoke quickly became overwhelming and Fenris found himself looking for an escape. He quietly excused himself from Hawke and Isabela, promising not to wander off too far, and left the Pearl as fast as he could.<p>

He took a deep breath of fresh air as he exited the venue, trying to flush out the nauseating smell from his nose. While being an elf had a lot of pros, his increased sensitivity to smell had proven to be more of a hindrance than an asset in the past.

He stood outside the door to the Pearl as his head cleared, the dull throbbing behind his eyes fading to nothing with each breath he took. He began to notice that he was getting weird looks from the people who were walking past, he figured it was much to do with his strange appearance as it was to do with the fact he was an elf standing outside a brothel. He pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head, hiding his white hair and pointed ears, before striding away from the Pearl.

About an hour later and, despite his promise not to wander off to far, Fenris found himself lost in the streets of Denerim. The city lacked the tiered levels of Kirkwall that allowed one to figure out which part of the city they were in. The only noticeable landmark he could see was the towering white stone of Fort Drakon, but his unfamiliarity with the city meant that the tower did not help him in the least.

He wandered idly, hoping that he would see something he recognized or some indication of where he was in the city. He didn't have much luck.

He tried back-tracking for the umpteenth time when a sound caught his ears, the sound of someone calling for help. He turned quickly and followed the sound deeper into the maze of streets, his pace quickening as the yells grew louder. When the cry for help cut off in mid-yell he broke into a run, rounding a corner to find a group of men surrounding a young elven woman.

The woman stared groggily at her surroundings, her eyes struggling to focus. A trickle of blood ran down her face from where the men had hit her. Fenris drew his sword and prepared to charge at the men. One of the men saw the motion and turned towards him, a smirk growing on his face as he saw him.

"What have we here?" he drawled to his companions, "A knife-ears carrying a sword, can't have that can we?"

One of the other men sniggered "Oh he looks angry, he might hurt us." He said mockingly.

"We should take that blade from him," the third one added "he might hurt himself."

Fenris took his stance, preparing to cut the men down when another elf appeared at the end of the street.

The elf froze as he saw the men, but his face reddened in anger as he saw the female at their feet "Dallyce!" he called out.

The female, Dallyce, lifted her head as she searched for whoever called her name "Brother?"

One of the men spat on the ground "You're a persistent little knife-ears aren't ya. I think we going to have to show you another lesson."

Fenris eyed the elf, noticing that his face was swollen and bruises were beginning to appear on his skin – he must have fought against his sister's captors before.

Dallyce's brother took a step back as the men drew their weapons and began to advance on him. The elf's eyes flicked wildly back and forth between the advancing men and his sister before they flicked over to Fenris. The elf's eyes lit up as he caught sight of Fenris' drawn blade.

"Please," he called out to Fenris "help me!"

The men stopped and turned to look at Fenris, waiting for the white-haired elf's reaction. Fenris hesitated; he was in an unknown city, facing a group of ruffians who may or may not have reinforcements nearby and he was essentially alone. But he could not leave the elf and his sister to the mercy of these men. He would have to cut them down before they got the chance to call for help.

Fenris raised his blade and met the gaze of the man closest to him; the man's features twitched "You made the wrong move elf." He spat and he began to stride towards Fenris, his blade poised to strike.

Fenris was about to charge when a green light emanated from beneath the feet of the men and their bodies froze in place. The men looked around them in fear as they struggled to move their bodies but to no avail.

Fenris looked sharply at the other elf, his eyes narrowing as he saw the green light fade from the elf's hands. Mage.

The mage hurried over to his sister and gave her a fierce hug. Dallyce, for her part, did not seem to have noticed what just happened in her dazed state.

The mage turned to Fenris, a smile on his face as his spoke, "Thank you, I just needed their attention off me long enough to cast the spell. You have done me a great service and you have my gratitude – it is not everyday a stranger will raise a hand to help someone in need."

"Especially when that someone is a mage." Fenris replied dryly.

The elf picked up on his tone and looked sheepishly away "Ah yes. We have built up a bit of a reputation for ourselves."

"A reputation that is not entirely unfounded." Fenris fought to keep the venom from his voice.

The mage opened his mouth to continue but he was interrupted as an armored figure came running around the corner from where he had appeared earlier, skidding to a stop as they caught sight of the mage.

"Leland!" the figure was a woman, if the voice was anything to go by.

Fenris watched as the mage elf, Leland, cringed "Comman-" he began.

"Don't 'Commander' me." The woman said as she stormed up to the mage, the gold embellished black gauntlet pointing at him "You were nearly unconscious when we found you and then you just upped and ran off without another word, what in the creators where you…" the woman's angry triad faded as she caught sight of Leland's sister.

"These men had my sister." Leland told his Commander, casting dark glares at the still paralyzed men "I tried to fight them but they knocked me down. When I came to, I ran after them. That's why I left."

The armored woman let out a long sigh "Leland, you need to let me know these things before you go running off then I can help instead of having to chase you across half of Denerim."

"My apologies. The elf over there helped me." Leland informed the woman, as if that fact alone would make everything all right.

The woman's helmeted head turned in Fenris' direction and she strode over to him. As she drew close Fenris noticed that the woman was small; she only came up to his chin. He found it very odd that a woman of her size was parading around in full plate armor, even odder were the two longswords on her back; they were normal sized blades but they were almost as tall as she. However, despite her size though, the woman cut an imposing figure in the black armor, gold highlights gleaming as she moved.

"I apologize for his incompetence and for him dragging you into this." The woman said; Leland let out a faint sound of protest from where he tended to his sister, "But at the same time I am thankful you were here so the fool mage could actually cast the spell." There was a faint accent to her voice but Fenris couldn't identify it.

"Had I had known he was a mage I might not have interfered." Fenris replied sharply.

"Might?" The woman asked "You would have left Dallyce at the mercy of these men?"

Fenris frowned at the woman "I would have not. I would have cut them down regardless."

"Then I am glad that Leland was here." The armored woman replied, turning back to the frozen men "We need those men alive…at least for now."

The woman spun away from Fenris and toward the closest of the paralyzed men. She studied his frozen form as his eyes flicked wildly around, circling him like a wolf circling its prey. She reached out and pulled a length of rope and a set of iron shackles from the man's belt, inspecting the objects.

"Release him." She commanded the mage, reaching out to grab the man by the shoulder as his body was freed.

The man spun quickly to strike at the woman; but she was faster.

She tightened her grip on the man's shoulder and threw the man into the nearest wall in one swift movement. He struggled to regain his balance, stumbling into the wall. The woman drew one of her longswords and placed the tip against the man's throat.

Fenris found his eyes drawn to the blade; the pale silver metal gleamed maliciously in the fading light and glowing blue lines pulsed as they ran across the length of the blade in a bizarre pattern. The lines reminded him of his own lyrium markings. The blade's shape was unusual, all points and edges compared to the sleekness of a normal sword.

He had never seen anything like it in his life – neither had the man it seemed, his eyes widening as the cold metal pressed against his skin.

"I suggest you think twice before trying anything again." The woman hissed menacingly.

The man nodded meekly once, eyes still fixated on the sword.

"Where were you planning on taking her?" the woman demanded, "Where are you holding the others?"

"What do you mean 'others'?" The man protested, "We were planning to have a little fun with the knife-eared wrench, that's all!"

The woman removed the tip of the blade from the man's throat, spun the longsword in her hand and hit the man in the head with the hilt, knocking him out cold.

"Wrong answer." She told the man's unconscious form, turning to the next man.

This man fell to his knees, hands over his head as his body was freed from the spell "Mercy!" he pleaded to the black armored woman "Mercy!"

The woman bent down and grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, pulling him to his feet. "Tell me what I want to know."

"By the dock, that's where we were taking her. W-we were paid to capture elves and take them to the dock." The man replied quickly "I don't know what they want to do with them, I swear. My mother's ill and I needed the coin and they're paying well. Mercy!"

"Where by the dock?" she shook the man violently.

"Near the Carpenter's Guild! On the southside of Guilver's Path." Came his whimpering reply.

The man fell back to the ground as she let go "Up against the wall." She commanded, kicking the man with her foot when he didn't move fast enough "Now!"

The man whimpered as he pressed himself against the wall, his face continuing to pale as the woman gave him instructions. When he had his face the wall, his hands up behind his head and his weapons thrown down the alley, the woman bent over his unconscious comrade and began rummaging through his pockets – Fenris was reminded of when he had first met Hawke; the warrior had been poor back then and relied mostly of quest rewards and rummaging through the pockets of the slain for income.

She pulled a sealed letter from the man's shirt, rising to her feet as she opened the letter and read. Her head spun sharply to look at the man by the wall and the still paralyzed man.

"Leland, release the last one." She said pointing at the man, "You, same thing. Against the wall, hands on your head and weapons over there. Don't you dare try anything."

The man sneered at the short woman but did as told; casting dark looks at the armored woman. The woman grabbed the unconscious man at her feet by the shirt and dragged him over to the wall next to his companions, dropping him unceremoniously next to the other two.

"Now there is no use lying," she informed the other two men "I know that you three are slavers."

The man who pleaded for mercy turned his head in alarm "I swear, we're not slavers!"

The woman waved the letter in her hand "That's not what it says here." She propped her hands on her hips as she addressed the man "Nice try kid, but you need to improve your acting skills before you can hope to fool me. The ill mother was a nice touch though."

The man's eyes hardened and he spat on the ground, "Bitch." He muttered darkly, turning back to face the wall.

"Do you know what the punishment is for getting caught enslaving a resident of Ferelden?" She asked the men.

The two remained silent.

"Shall I show you then?" the woman asked; Fenris could almost hear the smirk in her voice.

The pair turned to cautiously watch the small woman as she walked over to the unconscious man, drew the glowing blue blade and ran it through the fallen man in one motion. The man's body jerked a little as he suddenly came back to consciousness, blood trickling down the side of his mouth as he stared down at the blade protruding out of his chest. He grimaced and coughed once before his body became limp.

His companions paled as the woman pulled her sword from the dead man's chest. "It's the death penalty; although I think they hang criminals…or were they beheaded? Either way, slaver dies." The woman said almost conversationally, "So, gentlemen, die now or die later?"

The third man lunged at the woman, but his half-hearted attack was short-lived as the woman easily removed his head from his body with one swing of her blade. The bloodied sword was raised to point at the remaining man, almost daring him to try to attack. Fenris grimaced as the smell of urine hit him.

"What's your move?" the woman asked mockingly.

"Commander!" Leland cried out in indignation "You can't just kill them!"

The woman's voice was cold and harsh when she replied, "Leland, are you suggesting I let this man get away so he can warn the other slavers that we're on their trail? If they know then they'll just kill whatever elves they have imprisoned at the moment and set themselves up somewhere else. If we let them do that then there will be another girl like your sister who is attacked and swept away from her family and friends and enslaved in a foreign country." Her head turned slightly to look at the mage, her voice softening a little "Is that what you want?"

"I- no Commander." Leland said dejectedly, holding his sister closer.

The last man looked fearfully at the woman "Wait, does that mean you're going to kill me?"

"May the Maker or whoever you pray to take your soul." The woman said softly before swinging her blade quickly and slitting the man's throat before he had a chance to protest.

She stepped back as the man's body fell to the ground next to his dead companions. Fenris watched the whole ordeal detachedly; it felt like it was a play that had unfolded before his eyes. He examined the three dead slavers on the ground before looked back to the armored woman. His gaze met hers through the slits of her helm.

"Are you any good with that blade?" she asked "Or is it just for show?"

Fenris glanced down at the blade still in his hand, he had honestly forgotten had had drawn it at all. "I am good enough to kill slavers." He informed her.

"Up for some slaver hunting then?"

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><p><strong>R&amp;R Please :D<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**First and second chapter and now combined!**

**So this is the new second chapter… if that makes sense.**

**Tried to add some actual combat into this scene, however it ended up being mostly: slaver was stabbed, slaver was cut down, slaver was beheaded, slaver died. So I edited it out. Once I can actually write something that isn't so bleh sounding I might add it in later but for now this is what it ended up as.**

**Disclaimer: Bioware owns all**

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><p>Sabriel Mahariel peeked around the corner, watching as a lone sentry stood restlessly by the door. To the casual eye it would look like another hapless soldier hired to guard a merchants wares, but the way the man's eyes shifted about as people walked past, and the way his hand hovered near his sword every now and again said otherwise.<p>

After dropping Leland's sister Dallyce back at her home in the Alienage, the three had swiftly headed over towards the Slaver's den. Sabriel pulled back into the shadows as the guard turned in their direction.

The tall elf she had picked up earlier was silent; in fact he hadn't said a word since he had agreed to help hunt down the slavers. He face was impassive as he lounged in the alley behind her but she could see his eyes were constantly moving, on the lookout. Leland, on the other hand, was fidgeting with his belt, his head swiveling back and forth. While he was a competent mage in battle, he was always intensely nervous beforehand.

"Leland." She whispered softly, watching as the mage jumped, his head snapping towards her, "Focus."

The man swallowed and nodded his head once, his hands dropping away from his belt to rest at his sides. She glanced at their silent companion only to find him looking at her.

"I didn't catch your name before." She said as she peeked round the corner again.

"I didn't give you my name." He replied in his gravelling baritone, "I am Fenris."

"Well met Fenris, I am Sabriel." She turned to look at him, "And the mage, if you hadn't noticed, is called Leland."

Fenris' eyes flicked over to the mage briefly before returning to her.

"Commander," Leland said softly, "do you think this is wise? There is only three of us, shouldn't we wait until we have more people to fight?"

"No. We are doing this." She said sternly, "I have spent the last month tracking down these slavers and since I now know where they are I am not letting them get away. Besides, I have confidence in my own skills and yours."

Leland blushed at the praise from his Commander, "But what about him?" he asked, motioning at Fenris.

"He can look like he had hold himself in a battle, otherwise he wouldn't be carrying around that huge broadsword." Sabriel retorted swiftly, her gaze resting on the blade strapped to the white haired elf's back. "Now, back to business. There is only one guard near the door but there is probably another two or three just inside so we'll have to take him out without a sound." She informed them, arms crossed over her chest, "Leland, I want you to freeze him. Once he's out of the way we'll enter through that door and quickly take out those in the first room."

"Fenris and I will enter first and Leland, I want you to provide cover from behind; and no fire spells. I do not want to have to worry about the warehouse burning to the ground around us." She turned to Fenris, "When we clear the first room I want you to fall back and bit and keep close to Leland – the last thing we want is some slaver sneaking up behind and stabbing him in the back. You won't need to worry about getting hit by a spell, Leland has got a pretty good aim."

The white-haired elf looked like he wanted to protest but nodded silently instead.

"Leland, you know the drill. Ice, lightening, hexes or whatever takes your fancy. Just. No. Fire." She said, stepping closer to the mage, "Understand?"

"Yes Commander. No fire. I learnt my lesson last time." Leland replied quickly, shrinking a little as the small armored woman drew close.

"As long as you understand." She said drawing back. "Whenever you are ready then."

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><p>The raid on the slaver's hideout had been swift and methodical, if not bloody and brutal. Fenris had been more than eager to help Sabriel, as the woman had introduced herself, clear out the slavers. He had forgotten in the heat of battle that he was, in fact, lost in a city with which he was unfamiliar. Night had now and truly fallen and Fenris knew he had next to no hope finding his way back to the Pearl.<p>

Almost as soon as the last slaver had died and the last captured elf was freed the mage had hurried off to go back to his sister's side without another word. Not that Fenris minded the mage's absence. Sabriel, on the other hand, lingered in the old warehouse, rummaging through chests and dead bodies – Fenris presumed she was searching for something.

She glanced up and caught sight of Fenris as he lent against the wall admiring the carnage they had caused (he himself was impressed at how much the slavers' blood had splattered – was that? Yes it was. There was even some on the roof).

She straightened up as she addressed him "You're still here Fenris?"

"I am." He replied apathetically.

"If you are worried about me there is no need to stay, I can more than look after myself." The woman let out a soft laugh.

A smile played on Fenris' features as he remembered the battle before; the woman had danced through the slavers like they weren't even there. Her twin blades flashing as they cut through flesh, bone and armor alike. The slavers never stood a chance.

"I saw how formidable you were; it would be pointless to worry about you."

She glanced down at a dead slaver at her feet, "Did you want to loot the bodies as well?" She asked.

"No." Fenris replied quickly, grimacing.

The woman looked around her as if searching for the reason he was still there. She even scratched her helm with a gauntleted hand.

"I'm lost." Fenris admitted ashamedly. "This is my first time in Denerim and I wandered too far from where my companions and I are staying and got lost. I was trying to find my way back when I came across the slavers."

"You wouldn't be the first, nor will you be the last to get lost." Sabriel chuckled, "When I first came to Denerim I had to rely on my friends. It was my first time in a city and I was too busy ogling at everything and kept running into things because I wasn't watching. They even tied a rope to me so that I wouldn't fall too far behind."

Fenris let out a soft laugh, "I am nowhere near as bad as that, but I do not think I will be able to find my way back without assistance."

"Very well," she agreed, "when I am done here I will do my best to lead you back to your friends. Where are you staying?"

Fenris hesitated before giving the name of the brothel "The Pearl."

Sabriel's head whipped back towards him; he could almost imagine the expression on the woman's face "Not my choice." He told her quickly, "It is my first time in Denerim after all; one of my companions chose it. She's been here before."

"If she chose the Pearl I suspect she's been in a lot of places." The woman replied dryly.

Fenris grimaced, "That would be an understatement."

Sabriel laughed in reply before tossing him a waterskin and a rag. He looked quizzically at the items in his hands, "You can't exactly walk through the streets covered in blood like that – the guard tends to get suspicious."

He glanced down at his blood-splattered clothes "I imagine."

He looked up as he heard the sound of metal clinking as Sabriel removed her helmet and she sat down on a nearby barrel. Fenris blinked in surprise as he saw pointed ears poke out from her hair. She was an elf.

She placed her helmet next to her on the barrel and looked up to meet his gaze. Amber eyes stared directly at him, lips twitching in amusement at his stunned expression. Light ash brown hair framed her petite face in a short bob and a fringe hid half her forehead. What stunned him the most was the dark blue dalish tattoo. It ran across her left eye in an intricate circle, the circle extendened beyond her hairline. A darker mark ran down the bridge of her nose while another ran down her chin, spiraling intricately out in a way that made his own markings seen plain.

"Never seen a dalish before?" she asked, an eyebrow raised. Now that he saw her face he could place her faint accent; it was the same as Merril's had been, although Sabriel's was significantly less pronounced.

"No. I have met dalish elves before," He replied, composing his features "I was just not expecting you to be a dalish."

Her eyes narrowed a little as she studied him "Oh? Who did you think I was then?"

Fenris shrugged "I am not sure. You do not seem very dalish though."

"Silence flat-ears!" She said sharply, glaring at him venomously. Fenris reeled back in shock, feeling alarmed at her sudden change in behavior. She glared at him for a few more seconds before smiling sweetly "Was that better?"

He let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding, "You are a very strange woman."

Sabriel laughed "You wouldn't be the first to tell me that. I used to be all 'I'm a dalish! I hate all shemlen! Rawr!'; but if I had held on to my dalish prejudices then I wouldn't have gotten very far in human society – I'd probably be dead in a ditch somewhere most likely." She added whimsically.

Fenris stared at the dalish woman, unsure what to make of her (rawr?). While his experience with dalish had been limited to the xenophobic dalish that had resided at Sundermount and Merril, the happy-go-lucky blood mage, he was certain that the woman before him was an oddity among the dalish. Merril's personality could be attributed to her naivety, but Sabriel's eyes held none of the innocence – the fact she had cut down the three slavers earlier was proof of that. Behind her grinning façade and light-hearted charm she was a killing machine.

Just like Hawke.

He cleared his throat as he realized he had been staring, "With your skill I am sure you would probably have more than a few slain enemies with you in your ditch."

She smirked. "Flattery, hm?" Fenris felt himself blush, that had not been his intent. "You are not so bad with that sword of yours yourself. I have not seen a warrior move like you do before, from where did you learn how to fight?"

Fenris was silent for a long moment before replying "Tevinter."

Sabriel's smile faded as her eyes flashed from his clothes, to the lyrium markings, to his defiant posture and then finally to the brutal way he had dismembered the slavers earlier "Slave?" she asked cautiously.

"My master is dead. I am a slave no longer." He growled. The memory of his former master still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Her expression was neutral as she regarded him. Fenris glared at the dalish as he waited for her next words, which caught him off guard. "Well I suppose that is one less person I have to kill."

Fenris stared at the woman speechless, "Pardon?" he asked when he recovered.

"While I hate slavers, I hate those who own slaves even more. They should all just jump off a cliff and die. No-one to own slaves, no slavers: problem solved." She said flatly, picking up her own waterskin and a bit of cloth she had ripped from one of the dead slaver's shirts. Pouring water onto the scrap of cloth she began to wash off the blood on her armor "So since you ex-master is dead I suppose that is one less person I feel inclined to kill. If he had still been alive and in Denerim there would probably be little you could do to stop me from going after him."

"That is something you do not have to concern yourself with," Fenris gave a grim laugh "he is well and truly dead. I killed him with my own hands."

Her level gaze met his own; there was no pity for his past in them, only a sort of acceptance – he found the look unsettling "That seems appropriate." She eyed the waterskin and rag still in his hands, "Are you going to clean your armor or not? You are quite able to stay here for the night if you wish, however I am sure that this place will smell something awful tomorrow; you know, rotting bodies and all."

Fenris quickly washed off the blood encrusted onto his armor and his sword, responding politely to the idle and seemingly random questions Sabriel tossed at him. He looked to her when he had finished; frowning as he caught her amused expression.

"You missed a spot." She said pointing at a spot on her own face.

Fenris raised the rag to his face and scrubbed at the presumed spot, "No, the other side." Sabriel chuckled. He wiped his face again only to hear her let out a long sigh "Now you've just made it worse, here let me."

Without waiting for his reply she reached up and wiped away the offending blood from his face. She drew her hand back when he flinched at the unexpected contact. "Ah, sorry." She apologized quickly, blushing, "I didn't mean to…ah."

"It is ok. I am not used to being touched, that's all." Fenris looked away, unable to meet her gaze. Her sudden close proximity was making him nervous.

She stepped away from him; he felt his body relax as she moved away "Well, it's all gone now anyway. Time to head to the Pearl then," she continued "your companions are probably concerned."

Hawke and Isabela flashed into his mind and Fenris wondered if they would have actually noticed that he had been gone for so long, let alone that he might be lost. "That would probably be for the best."

Fenris quickly lost all sense of direction as he followed Sabriel through the streets of Denerim. Sabriel chatted light heartedly as they walked, giving him a quick rundown on Denerim: the layout, the different districts, where the market was and the best place to buy weapons and armor since Master Wade had left (he didn't have a clue who this Wade person was though). She continued as she described the changes that had been made to the city since the end of the Blight, from the rebuilding of the city, to the reconstruction of the top of Fort Drakon to the reestablishment of the Grey Warden presence in the city.

Soon Fenris found himself standing outside the door to the Pearl. He looked at the door tentatively; he did not particularly wish to enter the establishment again. Sabriel stood next to him, waiting for him to enter the 'classy' brothel.

"Are you not going in?" She asked, "This is the right Pearl, right? I am pretty sure there is only one Pearl in Denerim."

"It is the right place," he assured her, "I just do not want to enter, that is all."

"So you are going to stand out her for the rest of the night." Her eyebrow rose skeptically, "Between you and me that is a certain recipe for making yourself a target for the gangs. They like to prey upon the drunks who stumble home from this district. They'd think that a lone elf outside a brothel is the perfect target."

"Then it will be their last mistake." Fenris replied bluntly.

"Of that I am sure, however, my non-darkspawn body toll has already exceeded its limits for today so I can't in good conscious let you stand out here until some poor, unsuspecting bullies try to take you on."

Fenris looked at her unconvinced.

Sabriel let out a long sigh, "Never thought I would say this to anyone:" She said softly to herself "Fenris, into the brothel, now!"

He gave her an amused look "You're commanding me to go into the brothel?"

"I can be very convincing when I want to. Now, into the brothel before I drag your skinny elf butt in there myself." She grinned at him but he felt a shiver run down his spine. He got the feeling that she would carry out her threat without so much as batting an eyelash. "Please?"

Fenris chuckled, hands held up in defeat "As much as I despise the thought, I will go inside because you asked so nicely."

Her grin turned smug as she watched him walk over to the door, arms crossed over her chest, weight shifting across to one leg. He stopped as he reached the door and looked back at the dalish elf.

"Good night, and thank you." He said softly to the woman.

"Dareth Shiral Fenris, until we meet again." She replied, nodding to him once before turning and walking down the street.

Fenris waited until she was out of sight before heading into the Pearl, almost instantly regretting his decision as the pungent smell assaulted his nose. He spun quickly as he felt a presence next to him, his hand flying up to grip the hilt of his greatsword. He relaxed as he recognized the figure leaning casually next to the door. Isabela smiled, her eyes dancing as if she knew some sort of joke that he was not privy to.

Of all the things she could have said, he did not expect to hear these words next: "Since when did you become such a flirt?"

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><p><strong>R&amp;R Please!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Yay - next part!**

**Thank you to all who have sent me reviews and feedback - i love hearing what you all think :D**

**Warning: Isabela being Isabela in this chapter ;)**

**Disclaimer: Bioware owns all (i just play in their sandbox)**

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><p>With much whinging and whining on Hawke's part (he did not see it below himself to stoop to such levels – he figured if Isabela could use such tactics to get her way, so could he) the next morning Hawke and company packed up their gear and left the Pearl in search of better accommodation. Isabela complained constantly as she led them once again through Denerim, making a show of casting longing glances back at where they had come from, back in the general direction of the docks where her new pride and joy was.<p>

She stopped outside another building and pouted as she regarded the door. It was not a well kept as the Pearl had been, the paint peeling and the sign faded.

"Is this good enough? It isn't the Hanged Man, but it not a brothel." Isabela said glumly, making puppy eyes up at the Champion; almost begging him to go back to the Pearl.

Hawke rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and shared an uncertain glance with Fenris, who shrugged nonchalantly in reply. "Well, let's take a look inside before we make a decision." He said tentatively, eyeing the building and the way it lent to one side just a little too much.

He headed for the door, his hand reaching for the doorknob as a series of thumps sounded out above him. He paused and looked up. A split second later a man fell out of one of the second story windows, falling to the ground in a heap of shattered glass and splintered wood.

The three stared at the man, unsure what to do.

Without warning the man sat up, rubbing his head as he looked up at the window he had fallen out off. "Damned woman," he mumbled to himself "throw me out of a window will she?" he unsteadily got to his feet, oblivious Hawke, Isabela and Fenris.

He stumbled toward the door to the building, Hawke stepping back to allow the man to pass. He grabbed the doorhandle and turned it, a frown appearing on the man's face as the door remained shut. He tried again, ramming his shoulder in the wood trying to force the door open. With one final shove, the door burst open and the man fell through the doorway, sprawling across the floorboards inside. The building creaked ominously as the door was forced open, causing Hawke to snap his head up and back away slowly from the decidedly unstable building.

"How about we find somewhere else." Hawke said to the other two, watching as the man rose to his feet again and stormed off into the depths of the volatile structure.

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><p>"Now this sounds more promising," Hawke said jovially, looking at the tavern in front of him, "the Brass Arms." He read, "At least you can read the sign this time."<p>

The Brass Arms was a vast improvement over the establishment they had considered earlier. The exterior was well kept and tidy, oiled wood gleamed dully in the morning sun and barrels were set up out the front, hosting a multitude of different native plants and flowers. And, most importantly, it did not look like the building was about to collapse.

Hawke led the other two into the tavern, the smell of cooking hitting their noses as soon as they entered. What ever they were cooking smelt divine. The inside of the Brass Arms was neat and tidy, the floors all swept and the tables clean and there were a few customers already sitting inside. Hawke strode up to the bar just as a middle aged man appeared up from behind it. He caught sight of Hawke and a large smile came across his face.

"Welcome Ser to the Brass Arms, anything I can get for you this fine Denerim day?" The man said cheerfully. Fenris was captivated as he watched the man's greying moustache twitch as he talked.

"Do you have any rooms free?" Hawke asked, his features twitching briefly as he fought to keep his face composed – Fenris could only have guessed he had picked up on the moustache as well.

The man's grin grew "Certainly Ser."

Hawke turned and flashed a triumphant grin back at the pirate, chuckling softly as she huffed. With their rooms paid for (1 room for Hawke and Isabela, and 1 for Fenris), they dumped their gear and headed out into Denerim.

Isabela's mood brightened as she led them to the Market Distrcit, showing them the main plaza, the emporium and the Gnawed Noble tavern ("Why didn't we stay there?" "Because it is where nobles stay." "But I am a noble."). Fenris stood by a wall and watched as Isabela flitted from stall to stall, Hawke trailing along behind her looking amused. The day was proving to be a pleasant one; the sun shining brightly above and a cool breeze blew from the direction of the harbor. The Chantry bells rang softly from across the market and vendors called out loudly to passers by trying to sell their wares.

Fenris was reminded of the small market in High Town and, despite his better judgement, found himself missing Kirkwall. In the 8 or so years he had lived in the city it had become a place where he could relax, especially since the death of Danarius. While resentment and hatred for the man still lingered, Fenris had eventually found a sense of relief in the magister's passing. However he was still lost; after having his thoughts full of revenge for so long he was at a loss of what to do next. Which was why he was now here, in Denerim, with Hawke.

Fenris had kept the hood of his cloak pulled up since they had left the Pearl that morning, but he was tempted to pull it down as the sun steadily grew higher in the sky. After what had seemed like a few hours Hawke and Isabela appeared, the former's arms full of an assortment of boxes.

Fenris arched a brow at the mass of brightly coloured boxes in the Champion's arms, "Huh."

Hawke's face twitched "Is that all you have to say?" he asked darkly.

"Isabela has got you wrapped firmly around her finger." The elf replied matter-of-factly, his expression neutral.

"Mmm, I've got him wrapped around some other parts of me as well." Isabela purred, smiling widely as Hawke rolled his eyes.

"I do not wish to know about either of your endeavors in the bedroom," Fenris commented flatly, fighting the urge to groan, "or anywhere else for that matter." He added as he caught sight of the mischievous glint in the pirate's eyes.

Isabela pouted, "You're no fun Fenris."

"I have to agree with Fenris," Hawke said "I would rather you didn't go around telling everyone how much of a 'stud' I am in bed, or whatever idiom you use."

Isabela looked at the man, "You too?" she asked indignantly "But I like letting others know that I'm getting good sex."

"Therin lies the problem." Hawke responded, grimacing. Their conversation was beginning to draw eyes. "Could we possibly have this conversation somewhere, you know, more private?"

"And somewhere where I cannot hear it." Fenris added dryly. He did not want to know anything about what went on between the two when they were alone – he had already heard too much.

"Where's your sense of adventure Hawke?" Isabela smirked, "Isn't it exciting to know that others are listening in?" She cast a glance over her shoulder where a small crowd had amassed within earshot of the trio; they all suddenly looked very busy as they hurried off in different directions.

Hawke let out a long sigh; "I've left it back in Kirkwall, along with your sense of decency so it seems."

"I didn't know she had one in the first place." Fenris commented skeptically.

"Oh shush you two. You're making me look like I am sort of sexual deviant who knows no boundaries." The woman protested.

Hawke and Fenris both turned to silently stare at the woman.

The Champion was the first to break the silence "I think I need a drink." He said exasperatedly, turning on his heel as he began to head back to the Brass Arms.

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><p>That afternoon Hawke and company headed to the Grey Warden Compound. Hawke and his younger sister Bethany had kept in contact since the battle between the Orsino and Meredith, each making up for the lost time between them. Hawke had initially been shocked when he had met his sister only to discover her to be cold and distant but after their reconciliation they were steadily repairing their relationship to back to how it had been before the deep roads exhibition.<p>

Aside from a few stints in the Free Marches, Bethany had been mainly situated in Ferelden and, according to her last letter, she was presently in Denerim. Hawke figured it would be good to see each other without the threat of darkspawn, crazed apostates or deranged Knight-Commanders. They were stopped at the gates, the guard eyeing them as Hawke explained his reasons for visiting the compound.

But the guard proved to be difficult. "Look," Hawke said, begging to explain for the third time, "I just want to see my sister. She's a Grey Warden and she's here in Denerim."

The guard scoffed "Likely story, how do I know your sister's actually a Grey Warden, hell, how do I know you actually have sister at all. I can't let you in unless you have some proof."

"I'll tell you her name and you can go get her and she will verify that I'm her brother." Hawke proposed.

"How dumb do you think I am?" the guard asked indignantly, "If I go try to find your supposed sister then who will be here to guard the gate? Hmm? If I am not here you and any random ruffian can just come off the street in as they please."

"You could send someone else." Hawke pinched the bridge of his nose – he was near the end of his patience. Fenris had half a mind to just run the man through and get it over with.

The guard opened his mouth to reply but was cut off as an Orlesian accented voice spoke "Whitby are you harassing poor travellers again?"

They all turned to the newcomer as he walked up towards them. Fenris stiffened as he caught sight of the staff on the man's back.

"Warden Ruben!" the guard, Whitby, said, suddenly standing at attention.

Ruben let out a long-suffering sigh, "Guardsman, how many times must I tell you not to salute me. I am a mere Warden, nothing more."

"That would not be proper, Warden." The guard replied firmly. "And I wasn't harassing these people, they were harassing me. They wanted to get into the compound."

Ruben glanced at the group, "So why are they still here?"

"The guard wouldn't let us in." Hawke replied for Whitby, the guardsman's eyes narrowed distastefully as the Champion spoke "All I wanted to do was see my sister who is a Grey Warden here in Denerim."

"How am I supposed to know if you're telling the truth or not?" Whitby retorted loudly. "You could be here to steal secret Warden documents or you could be darkspawn spies!"

The Orlesian laughed, "Darkspawn spies? Them? My good man Whitby, if they were darkspawn spies they would be darkspawn themselves – do they look like darkspawn to you?"

"The one in the cloak might be! His face is hidden!" Whitby pointed at Fenris eagerly.

Fenris pulled his hood down, revealing his white hair and elven features. "I am not." He replied scowling.

"See, they're not darkspawn." Ruben explained, "And the Commander doesn't keep any secret documents in the Denerim compound so there is nothing to steal." The mage's gaze fixed itself on the guard "So you will let them in, no? If it eases your mind I will accompany them."

"I- I understand Warden." Guardsman Whitby said through clenched teeth.

Ruben grinned widely and patted the guard on the shoulder as he walked past, gesturing for Hawke and the others to follow him.

When they were out of earshot the warden spoke up, "I apologize for his behavior, Whitby is a bit paranoid. He was in Denerim when the darkspawn attacked during the Blight so he's a bit jumpy about the whole darkspawn thing. He means well."

"Thank you for your assistance, I was worried I was going to be stuck out there all day arguing with him." Hawke said jovially.

"Sweet, we all know you where this far from gutting him." Isabela held up her hand, thumb and index finger held close "Your impatience is near legendary."

Hawke let out a strained sigh as the mage chuckled.

The mage stopped suddenly and turned towards the small group, giving a slight bow. "Where are my manners, I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is Ruben and I am a Grey Warden."

"And a mage." Fenris muttered.

Ruben's eyes met Fenris' – humor dancing in their depths. "Yes, and I am a mage. I was part of the Orlesian Circle before I was recruited."

"Aren't you bit far from home?" Hawke asked.

"I am." The mage agreed, "I am part of a delegation from the Orlesian Wardens here in Ferelden for a year. It is sort of like an exchange – some of our wardens come here for a year and some of their wardens go to Orlais."

"Is this just between Ferelden and Orlais?"

"No, it is between all the national branches. Besides from us Orlesians, there are also some wardens from Rivain here at the moment." Ruben clarified.

"I see. I am Hawke, by the way, and this is Isabela and Fenris." Hawke gestured to each of his companions in turns.

"Hawke… Is that your first or last name?" Ruben enquired, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded the warrior.

"Last name." Hawke met the mage's gaze as it lifted to meet his.

"So your sister, she wouldn't happen to be called Bethany?"

"She is. Do you know her?"

A smile spread across the mage's features "Do I know her? I believe there are very few Wardens in Ferelden who do not know of Bethany Hawke. She is a rose among the thorns. She is quite the beauty if you do not mind me saying so."

Hawke smiled back but it didn't go all the way up to his eyes, "Just remember you are talking to her brother and you'll be fine."

Ruben laughed, "Such a doting brother. I'll be sure to keep your words in mind."

The Orlesian began walking again, leading them deeper into the compound. He chatted as he walked, pointing out the training grounds, the direct access to the Royal Palace and the main hall. A few Wardens called out greetings as the mage passed by, casting curious glances at Hawke and the others. Ruben led then into the main hall, his eyes almost instantly zeroing in on Bethany's black locks at the other end of the hall.

"She's over there." Ruben said, pointing to where she sat, her back to the group.

Hawke gave his thanks before heading over towards his younger sister. They had almost reached her when she turned and caught sight of her brother.


	4. Chapter 4

**Big thank you again to all who's favourited this story and/or sent me a review :D**

**Just a little note: in case you were wondering, Ruben, Leland and those introduced in this chapter will all most likely be appearing again later (maybe even Whitby if i feel so inclined :P - nothing like the annoying guard eh?)- who will reappear will mostly depends on which direction this story decides it is going (I have no control over it - it mostly writes itself). I have a whole list of characters that I can just toss into the fray whenever I want but I prefer to have a few well developed OC's rather than an army of faceless characters.**

**And, now with that all done - On with the show!**

**Disclaimer: Bioware owns all (probably including my soul)**

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><p>Bethany's face lit up instantly and she leapt out of her seat and ran to her brother, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce hug.<p>

"What are you doing here?" She asked as she pulled away, smiling happily at him.

Hawke shrugged "I was in Denerim and thought I should pay my dear little sister a visit – well, one without the threat of imminent death anyways."

Bethany laughed softly and caught sight of Isabel and Fenris "I haven't seen you in so long." The mage said, hurrying over to give Isabela a hug.

"How have you been Sweetness?" Isabela asked fondly, "I really didn't get to see you during that mess in Kirkwall."

"I am good." She replied. A blush coloured her cheeks as she continued, "I want to have a talk to you later about some certain…things. I need some advice." She whispered in the pirate's ear.

Isabela smirked at the mage "Sure thing."

Bethany stopped near Fenris, unsure of how to continue. They had not been exactly close before she had joined the Wardens, and last time they had met he had been less than tolerant of mages.

Fenris bowed slightly "It is good to see you well."

The woman's face broke into a smile "And it is good to see you well too." She said bowing politely back.

Within a few minutes they were all seated around one of the large tables that ran along the hall. Hawke updated his sister on their companions and what had happened since the deep roads exhibition (there is only so much one can write about in letters) and Bethany regaled them with stories about being a Warden. They all looked up as two other Wardens approached, a man and a woman.

The woman sat herself down next to Bethany and peered at the mage's companions, "Who's this?" she asked. The man sat opposite her.

Bethany crossed her arms and shot a glare at the woman, "How rude. You shouldn't just barge into other people's business."

The woman smiled charmingly at the mage, "Oh? And since when have you had reservations about barging into other people's business?"

"Ivy." Bethany said warningly.

The woman ignored her, instead smiling at Hawke, "The name's Ivyanne. I'm one of Beth's Warden friends."

The Champion nodded his head, "Hawke. I'm Bethany's elder brother."

Ivyanne quickly turned her head towards Bethany, "You didn't tell me your brother was coming." She glanced back at Hawke, looking him up and down, "And you didn't tell me he was good looking either."

"That's because he is my brother." Bethany exclaimed, "And I didn't know he was even in Denerim until he came here."

The other woman pouted, "Fine. I forgive you."

Bethany let out a long sigh. "Well I suppose I should 'properly' introduce you."

"What was wrong with my introduction?" Ivyanne protested.

The mage pinched the bridge of her nose in a Hawke-like fashion. Ivyanne smiled as the woman did so – she also recognized what it meant.

Bethany introduced Isabela and Fenris to the other two Wardens. Ivyanne was a skilled rogue with daggers and, upon discovering Isabela was proficient with the blade, promised to have a sparring match later with the pirate. The other Warden, the man, was introduced as Paisley. He was an ex-templar who had been recruited into the Grey Wardens. Hawke had shot a dark look at the man but Paisley had held up his hands and quickly added that he would not do anything to a fellow Warden, apostate or not.

"Are Wardens above the Chantry as well?" Isabela asked quizzically.

Paisley gave a strained smile, "Not really. But the Chantry in Ferelden would not dare try to cross the Warden-Commander – they tried so once after the Blight and from what I heard it did not end well." The ex-templar turned towards Hawke, "You do not have to worry about your sister, each and every one of us are Wardens before we are templars, or mages or nobility. We would not hand a fellow Warden over to the Chantry or the Circle willingly."

"And even then they'd have to face the wrath of the Commander." Ivyanne added chuckling.

"Is the Warden-Commander really that fearsome?" Hawke asked.

Ivyanne smirked, "Indeed she is, the Commander is also the Hero of Ferelden. On top of that she is in cahoots with the King."

Isabel smiled slowly, "So she's the Warden-Commander."

"Do you know the Hero of Ferelden, Isabela?" Bethany turned toward the pirate.

"Mmm-hmm. I met the Hero back before the Blight reached Denerim. Mind you, she wasn't the Hero back then; just one of the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden." She shot a glance over at Fenris, "I met her in the Pearl actually." Her grinned grew as the Wardens stared at her stunned.

"You met the Commander in the Pearl?" Ivyanne managed to get out.

"Somehow I don't believe you're telling the truth Isabela." Bethany added doubtfully. "The Commander isn't the sort of person to go to a place like that."

"Neither is the Champion of Kirkwall." Isabela's golden eyes flashed to Hawke briefly. Hawke gave her a warning look in return. "But believe me, I am telling the truth. I met the Hero in the Pearl."

"And my aunt's the witch of the wilds." Ivyanne replied, "I think you're leading us along."

"Oh am I?" the pirate purred, she was having way too much fun, "How about we ask the Hero ourselves and see whether I was telling the truth or not?"

"You can't just ask the Commander something like that." The rogue said fearfully, hissing at Isabela from across the table.

Paisley froze in his seat suddenly as a voice called out from behind the two female Wardens "What can't you ask me?"

Bethany and Ivyanne's faces were pale as they turned slowly towards their Commander. Fenris stiffened as he caught sight of the Hero of Ferelden and the Warden-Commander of Ferelden.

Sabriel stood in a casual blue and white warden uniform, hand propped on hips and a smile tugging at her lips as she regarded the Wardens. Her amber eyes shifted between the three Wardens expectantly.

"Ah, that is…um… Commander…" Ivyanne quickly looked down at the floor, unable to meet the dalish woman's gaze.

"I said that I met you at the Pearl." Isabela called out.

The three Wardens all spun their heads quickly towards the pirate, looks of horror on their faces.

Sabriel's eyes narrowed as they fixed on the woman, "And your name is?"

"I am Isabela, I was the Captain of The Siren's Call. We met back during the Blight in the Pearl." Isabela informed the Commander.

The Commander's eyes narrowed further, "You were the one who kept cheating at the stupid card game," she said slowly as she recognized the pirate, "the one Zevran knew."

"Yep, that's me." Isabela smiled smugly. "How's that friend of yours by the way, the other warden? – He looked like he had a chest to die for."

"You mean Alistair? He's King now." The elf replied without missing a beat.

Ivyanne let out soft choking noise, "Really now? Hmm, I missed a good chance there. I should have tried a little harder to get into his pants then. It's not everyday that you get to sleep with a soon-to-be-King." Isabela commented whimsically.

"Isabela!" Bethany cried out, mortified.

"Is Isabela your guest Bethany?" The Commander asked, amber eyes looking at the mage, "I didn't know you hanged around with such people."

"I- that is…I'm not…" Bethany's face grew redder as she tried to explain.

"Isabela's with me." Hawke said getting to his feet. He walked over to stand next to the Hero of Ferelden, towering over the petite dalish woman, "I am Bethany's brother, Hawke."

The elf had to look up to meet the man's gaze, "Relax," Sabriel said, hitting the man lightly square in the chest; "I was jesting. I know better than anyone that who you hang around with doesn't necessarily affect who you are." She smiled confidently; "I travelled across Ferelden and back with a bastard prince, an apostate, an ex-bard turned chantry sister, a condemned Qunari, a circle enchanter, an Antivan assassin, a drunk dwarf, a talking golem and a dog. You wouldn't find a company of misfits more bizarre in all of Thedas."

Hawke smiled back at the elf, but Fenris knew he was probably thinking of his own set of travelling companions. Though he had to admit the talking golem was impressive. The Warden-Commander's eyes then fell on him for the first time, recognition lighting up their depths as she saw him.

She smirked at him before turning back to Hawke, "So, you're the renowned Hawke? I have heard a fair few things about you."

"Most of which is probably not true." The warrior replied, "A friend of mine liked to exaggerate my experiences and spread his far-fetched stories wherever and whenever he could." Hawke said, smiling a little as he recalled the dwarf.

The Commander's brows rose slightly, "Oh? So you didn't take down three ogres with one arm tied behind your back?"

"Not that I can recall."

"How about taking out all of the bandit leaders in Kirkwall all in one night?"

"Impossible."

"Beating the Arishok to death with his own arm?"

"Not even close to the truth."

The woman crossed her arms, brow furrowed as she tried to recall the stories she had heard. "Did you single handedly kill a fully grown High Dragon?"

"No. Though I have killed a High Dragon but not by myself." Hawke replied.

Sabriel's eyes lit up, "Do tell."

Hawke sat back down and prepared himself to retell the story about the High Dragon that had settled itself in the Bone Pit, killing all the workers in the process. He was just about to begin when a loud voice yelled across the hall.

"COMMANDER!"

The elven woman visibly cringed and turned slowly towards the Warden at the other end of the hall. He stood in the doorway, puffing, his gaze fixed on her.

"So this is where you were." The man said as he began to stride over to where the group was, "I am gone for five minutes and you slip out of your office even though you still had work to do."

The Commander flashed a grin at Hawke and his companions, "You'll have to tell me another time Hawke. The bane of my existence has just arrived. Now, if you'll excuse me." The woman turned swiftly and sprinted away from the approaching Warden.

The man let out a cry of protest and gave chase to the fleeing Commander, ignoring the others in the room as he belted past them in pursuit.

The small group sat in silence in wake of what had just transpired; Hawke, Isabela and Fenris in bewilderment and Bethany, Ivyanne and Paisley in horror. The murmur of conversation slowly began to refill the room as the other Wardens continued their own conversations.

"Who…was that?" Hawke asked, breaking the silence

Paisley sighed, "That was the Commander's personal assistant, Torsten. He sort of keeps her in line, makes sure she does all of her work." He answered.

"Does this happen regularly?" Hawke asked in jest, staring at where the two had disappeared.

His grin froze on his face when his sister replied, "It does."

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><p><strong>R&amp;R :D<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the delay in this chapter - it was being decidedly difficult and ended up rewriting it and cutting out huge chunks just so it would flow a bit better. **

**The song that features in this chapter is an actual song that can be found within DA:O (lyrics only - no tune) and because I couldn't come up with my own I used this instead (trying to write a drinking song is hard -_-)**

**Thanks to all who have left reviews - you guys really make my day :D**

**Please R&R**

**Bioware owns all as usual**

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><p>Following the Commander's swift departure, Bethany gave her brother and companions a tour of the compound. It took them several hours to traverse the compound. The place was deceptively large. Bethany was enthusiastic as she led the small group, explaining the significance and the history of the compound. The main hall, she explained, was the hub of the compound. It was used predominantly as a dining hall and a communal lounge. It was also used for group meetings. She led them through mazes of hallways and corridors, explaining at length about the history of the compound. The warden beamed as she showed them the library, a great circular room literally covered in books. Fenris felt a little awed by the sheer number books yet he couldn't help but look at them eagerly, desiring nothing more than to grab one of the leather bound books and read. Varric had once described Fenris' passion for reading as 'unhealthy' – a description which had proven to be true on more than one occasion as the elf often forgot to eat or even sleep because he was too absorbed in a book.<p>

Bethany caught the gleam in the elf's eyes; "You are welcome to come in here and read while you're in Denerim." She said softly to him.

Fenris gazed longingly at the books in the library, he was sure he was going to take Bethany up on her promise. Bethany finished off the tour by showing them the practice grounds. By the time the warden had finished giving her brother and company a tour of the warden compound night had fallen. Considering the time, Bethany invited them to share dinner with the other wardens.

"There is always more than enough food." Bethany told them when they seemed uncertain, "You know, with all us wardens and our infamous warden appetite and all there is heaps of food."

In the dining hall Ivyanne, Paisley and Ruben joined their small group; the mage grinning cheerfully at them all as he sat.

"Didn't think I would be seeing you and your companions again so soon, Hawke." He said, propping his head on his folded hands.

Hawke shrugged, "The compound is a small enough space." He said jokingly; the compound was a maze of corridors, vacant rooms and numerous courtyards. For the unfamiliar it was an easy place to get lost in.

"Well don't come to me when you get lost in the future." Ruben replied in the same tone.

The chatter of the wardens died down, an expected silence filling the room as servants began to stream in bearing platters of food. Almost as soon at the plates hit the tabletops the wardens were reaching for food. The wardens did not shovel the food down though, in fact they were relatively civil as they ate, chatting and laughing with their fellow wardens. However, as the meal progressed they didn't slow down, they just ate plate after plate after plate. There was something bizarrely fascinating watching the wardens finish off one plate full after another, just when you thought they were done they would reach for another bit or bread, or another hunk of roast or another ladle of stew. Fenris couldn't help but wonder where in Thedas all that food went.

Partway through the meal Ivyanne jerked suddenly in her seat, letting out a little yelp and overturning her mug of ale. The smell of the spilt liquid filled the air and few curious wardens glanced over to see what the commotion was al about but quickly returned to their meals.

Ivyanne bent down and looked under the table, her eye's widening in shock, "Comma-" her exclamation cut off as a hand shot out from underneath the table and onto the rogue's mouth, silencing her.

The Sabriel's hand retreated as she poked her head over the top of the table, the top of her head just visible in the gap between Ivyanne and Fenris. Her amber eyes flicked cautiously around, searching.

"Is it clear?" she asked.

Ruben stifled a laugh, "It's all clear Commander, Torsten's not here."

The Commander pulled herself from underneath the table and squished herself between Ivyanne and Fenris, "Thought I'd never get free of him," The woman said once she was seated, one leg swung over Fenris' as she accommodated for the limited space on the bench; he froze at the sudden contact, "he's been after me the whole afternoon."

"How long have you been under the table?" Hawke asked cautiously, pulling back to peer under the table in case there was someone else seeking refuge under it.

"Not long," the elf replied, "I was hidden in the cupboard over there for a while and when I smelt the food I ventured out and crawled under the table until I came across non-warden feet."

Ivyanne turned to her Commander, bewildered, "Non-warden feet?"

"They're the only ones not wearing the warden uniform." Sabriel explained, reaching for some bread. She then turned to Fenris, a frown appearing on her face, "Why aren't you wearing any shoes Fenris?"

Hawke laughed loudly as the elf grimaced, "I do not care for shoes." Came his stoic reply.

"You'll care for shoes once winter comes around." The dalish woman said, "Ferelden winters are not to be underestimated."

"If you thought Kirkwall was cold in winter you are going to be in for a big shock." Hawke commented, grinning at the elf's obvious disgust.

"I shudder to imagine anything being colder than Kirkwall." Fenris shivered in his seat. He had never gotten used to the weather in Kirkwall, his body was still acclimatized to the hot, heavy air of Tevinter. Winters had been an annual irritation to him, forcing him to spend most if his time spent wrapped in layers of clothes and huddled near the roaring fire in his mansion. His behavior during winter had been a constant source of amusement for his companions.

The Commander smiled mischievously, "I am going to have to take you to Soldier's Peak now. It's covered in snow even at the height of summer."

Everyone laughed as they watched Fenris' face fell.

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><p>Fenris felt incredibly self-conscious as the commander lent forward to grab another hunk of bread, her leg rubbing against his as she did so. He tried to ignore the sensation of her next to him, but the burning of his brands made it quite difficult. He had long since finished his meal however nearly all the wardens were still eating. Hawke was watching his sister as she downed another plate, looking rather astounded. Isabela was busy regaling stories of her adventures to Ivyanne and Ruben.<p>

"Are you planning of staying in Denerim for long?" Sabriel asked, turning to look at him.

"I am not sure. It all depends on Hawke," Fenris replied, "for the time being I am travelling with him. Where he goes, I go."

"You've known him for a long time then?" She queried.

He nodded, "For almost ten years now. He assisted me when I was trying to escape some pursuers."

Her eyes flicked to his brands momentarily, "Ten years is a long time. Sometimes you don't realize how long it is." She said; she wasn't about to start discussing his enslavement with him. "One moment it's the start of the new year and then all of a sudden its mid-year then it's the next year. Summers and winters flash by then all of a sudden the kids you knew have grown up and are setting out in life." She sighed, "I feel immensely old when I think about it."

Fenris chuckled, "I don't know how old I am so I don't know whether I should feel old or not." He replied wistfully.

"You don't look old." She said, studying his face, leaning in as he unconsciously lent back, "I'd say late twenties, probably somewhere around my age, possibly older."

"And you are?"

Sabriel swatted his shoulder as she pulled away, "It's rude to ask a woman her age you know."

"I meant no offense." Fenris held up his hands in a defensive gesture.

Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him for a moment before smiling widely, "I jest. I am not particularly hung up about my age. Besides, us elves tend to age rather well if you haven't noticed; we look a lot younger then we actually are." Fenris' thought went to the dalish Keeper Marethari, her appearance had put her at around seventy; but if what Sabriel had said was true then she could possibly be a lot older. "Humans, on the other hand, age quite quickly." Sabriel continued, "Take Isabela for example, she's most likely in her mid-thirties. And Bethany, Paisley and Ivyanne are both in their mid- to late-twenties. Ruben, although he looks young, is actually at least over thirty; however he uses illusions to make himself appear younger – he's quite vain."

Fenris turned to each person, examining them as Sabriel talked, "And you?" he asked when she had finished.

"I am a mere twenty-eight." She replied, "I became a warden about ten years ago and I am the third-most senior Ferelden warden. Alistair, the King, is my senior by at least six months and Avernus… well he's in a league of his own. We've had to do a lot of recruiting since the Archdemon was killed. Before the Blight, Ferelden had only a handful of wardens; the wardens had been banned from entering Ferelden after one of the Warden-Commanders tried to usurp King Arland. It was only after two-hundred years that the wardens were allowed back into Ferelden after Maric Therin became King; and Duncan, the previous Warden-Commander, was careful to keep warden numbers low so that the crown would not feel threatened again." She chewed thoughtfully on her bread as she continued, "However, all the Ferelden wardens, except for Alistair and I, were killed at Ostagar. Thus, we are two of the most senior wardens in Ferelden." She flashed him a small smile, "Sorry for the history lesson, I am told it is a rather bad habit of mine."

"No need to apologise. It was quite enlightening." Fenris replied, "I do not know much about Ferelden other than what Hawke has told me."

He watched as a the dalish woman smiled brightly, sitting up a little straighter in her seat, "If you want to know anything please ask me, I know a lot about history, especially Grey Warden history." Her smile turned sheepish, "I often get reprimanded at royal functions for boring people to death with my talk of history, but other than talking about darkspawn or dalish culture I have very little to talk about – and after retelling the battle of Denerim for the fiftieth time it tends to lose it appeal."

"In your line of work I would gather you would have other stories to tell?" He asked.

"Plenty. Hundreds in fact." Sabriel said, "However, most of them are not appropriate for 'polite society' – or whatever they call themselves. Most nobles don't have the stomach to hear how I fought through a tower full of blood mages or abominations or what it is like down in the deep roads or any of the other things I have seen in my journeys." Her amber eyes darkened slightly, "I find I tend to have a short temper when dealing with the nobles, they weep and moan about the smallest things yet they know nothing of real hardship. The majority of them are just useless cowards."

"I agree. Most are detestable." Fenris commented, "Although there are few whom have my respect."

"Name five." She challenged.

Sabriel laughed as Fenris' brow furrowed as he struggled to find five names, the brow furrowing the longer he thought.

"Hey, easy, you're going to hurt yourself at this rate." The dalish woman teased, ignoring the glare Fenris shot in her direction, "Tell me what you've got."

"Saemus Dumar, the Viscount's son… and the Hawke family." Fenris replied.

"Hawke? Bethany and Hawke are nobles?" Sabriel asked in disbelief.

Fenris nodded, "In Kirkwall, yes. Their mother was a daughter of the Amell family."

The dalish woman looked somewhat bemused as she digested the news. "Well there you go. I never knew that." She said shaking her head.

Fenris gave her a brief overview of Hawke's past endeavors to resurrect the Amell family. Sabriel listened, chin propped on an arm, observing him as she chewed on some more bread.

"Hawke has accomplished a lot to reach where he is today." She commented thoughtfully, "That fills in a few blanks though, we hear stories of the Champion's activities but it is hard to discern the truth from the tales."

"You have interest in Hawke's accomplishments?" Fenris asked.

She gave a half-smile, "I have to keep my ear to the floor. Despite my protests I am politically involved in the court of Ferelden, as well as my duty to the Grey Wardens and my attempts at placating the Chantry. I couldn't give a rat's ass about the Maker but I still have to publically acknowledge him and the Chantry." She sighed, "I need to be aware what is happening elsewhere in Thedas, even in times of peace we wardens have to be vigilant. And Hawke's recent…activities have caught the attention of many powers."

The elf hummed, "In the time that I have known him, he has shown to have the ability to attract trouble like no other."

Sabriel gave a short laugh, "I can relate. I have a trail of trouble that I have left over the years, much to my second-in-command and assistant's dismay." She shot him a smile as she added; "Apparently each time I get into trouble it means more paperwork for them."

"I wouldn't pick you for a troublemaker, Commander." He replied, "Species potest esse deceptio proves to be true once again."

She stared at him blankly, blinking twice, "What?"

"Appearances can be deceiving." Fenris translated for her.

She smiled grimly, "Oh aye. I've discovered that more than once." She said, "And each time its always unexpected."

Fenris hummed in agreement.

Eventually the plates were cleared as the last warden's stomach was satisfied, the chatter suddenly grew from a quiet murmur it had been during dinner. Down the other end of the hall some wardens began a rowdy drinking song, a pair of them jumping up onto the table, linking arms as they began to dance. The noise grew as more and more wardens joined in song, singing raucously. Fenris was a little stunned by the behavior of the wardens, he had always imagined them to be solemn and serious – much like Anders or that Stroud fellow they had met. Sabriel caught the astonished look on his face and grinned, nudging him slightly with her elbow as she stood up and hopped onto the table, dragging Ivyanne up with her. The two women linked arms and began to dance on the tabletop, the wardens cheering loudly as they caught sight of the Commander joining in. Soon Isabela joined them, laughing loudly as she kicked a tankard of ale off the table, splashing Ruben in the process. Fenris was unfamiliar with some of the songs the wardens sang, he figured they must be either Grey Warden or Ferelden songs, but for the ones he did know he couldn't help but join in, caught up in the atmosphere.

The noise in the hall grew louder as the song changed once again, the wardens banging their cups against the table as they sang:

"Let me sing of heroes and honor lost and found,

Of monsters and men in all forms,

Of Dane, hunter without peer,

Feared by the forests of Ferelden,

Who one autumn morn spied

A hart of pure white in beam of warmest sun,

A prize for huntsman's spear.

Through the greenwood they ran, hart and hunter

Bringing the stag to spear at last in a long-forgotten grove,

Heedless that the chase had waked a hunger in the golden wood,

A werewolf, a creature with mind of man,

Lured by the hunt and come forth to lay claim

To the hart as rightful tribute

Drawn by the scent of cooling blood.

In the silence the two hunters held.

Dane, spear-armed against the wolf with all his brood,

Knew with sinking heart he was lost

Steeled for the winding roads of the Fade

Then the beast spoke, human-like in voice,

"You have taken this stag from my woods, and my pack

But nothing comes without a cost."

The wolf pack circled, ever closer, and he

Who felled boars and bears with his bright blade

Knew fear. They spoke his name in roars

Like gravestones, offering a beast's bargain.

"Die here, huntsman, alone

And forgotten, or take my place amongst the wolves

As I take your place amongst men."

Thus a bargain struck,

And Dane the wolf pack served in wolfen form,

And the werewolf to his family sped, as Dane,

One year and a day all told.

But some things cannot be repent,

Some coinage cannot be unspent,

When hearts are wagered, a fissure rent."

The wardens finished the song with a loud cheer and drank heartily from their cups before starting up a new song. Sabriel hopped down off the table and bent down next to Hawke and whispered in his ear. The Champion's smile was replaced with a frown as he turned to regard the dalish woman. Her face was impassive as she nodded once at the Hawke before spinning around and grabbing the arm of another warden, smile back in place as she joyfully joined in with the new song.

**Please R&R**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for delay, I have recently returned to uni and as such, I now do not have as much time to write as I once did. But I will persevere!**

**Thank you to those who have favourited and/or reviewed. You guys make my day :D There is nothing better than coming home after a long day to discover another favourite or a review :D :D :D**

**My current beta is unable to beta anymore so if anyone is interested in beta-ing let me know - otherwise i'll go find someone :)**

**Disclaimer: Bioware owns pretty much everything **

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><p>Sabriel stared up at the portrait of Duncan that hung behind her desk; his painted eyes seemingly to bore into hers as she studied it. A large fire burned in its hearth, casting her office in a warm light. Bookcases lined the left wall, opposite the fireplace, the gold lettering on the spines of the books glinting in the firelight. On the far wall, the wall which she now faced, there was two large windows, curtain drawn, and between the two windows hung her predecessors portrait. In the center of the room was a large wooden desk; only an inkwell, a single goose feather quill and a neat stack of papers held down by a bronze halla statue sat on the top of the desk.<p>

The Commander lent against the desk, her back to the door. Although she had been expecting it, she still started a little as a knock sounded on the door behind her; she had been lost in her thoughts. She called out a soft "Enter." to her guests, turning back to study the portrait as Hawke, Bethany, Isabela and Fenris entered. Fenris, being the last to enter, closed the door behind him. At the sound of the door closing Sabriel turned to look at the group over her shoulder, the firelight making her dark blue dalish markings stand out against her fair skin.

"Hawke." She said sternly, turning so that she faced the man, "I'm sorry I had to drag you away from the festivities, but we need to talk." She watched the man's face carefully as she continued, "I want you to be honest with me. What happened in Kirkwall? I don't want some fabricated story like the tales they tell in the taverns, I want the truth." She placed her hands on the table, her amber eyes boring into Hawke's golden ones. "I need the truth."

"Why?" The Champion challenged. She knew he would.

Sabriel regarded him for a moment before replying, assembling her explanation, "Because, if the tales are true then all of Thedas is potentially on the brink of war." She said, "If that is the case I want to do all in my power to prevent Ferelden from being dragged into the conflict and for that to happen I need the cold, hard facts. Since becoming a Grey Warden I have learnt that things are never as they seem, so if I assume too much then any of my mistakes could potentially have deadly effects. I need the facts to prevent anymore meaningless deaths – I have seen too much of that in my lifetime already and I do not want to see more." She continued, "I am aware there may be certain elements of your past that you do not wish to tell me, however, if you choose to trust me, let me assure you I will not break that trust. "

Only the sound of crackling fire met her words. Hawke stared at the dalish woman and she stared back, silently battling with each other with their eyes, each trying to read the other. She saw Fenris shift restlessly in her peripheral vision; the tension between the Commander and the Champion was intense.

Eventually Hawke looked away as he sat down in a chair, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs. "What do you want to know?"

Sabriel visibly relaxed, her shoulders dropping as a sigh escaped her. "Everything." She replied sitting down in her own chair, "Especially everything concerning what happened on the night the chantry blew up."

Isabela and Bethany sat down as Hawke began his tale, while Fenris opted to lean against the wall. Hawke began with his escape from Lothering, almost ten years ago, Sabriel couldn't help but be surprised when he mentioned his meeting with Flemeth but she made no comment. As his story moved beyond the venture to the deep roads, Bethany became more and more absorbed in Hawke's tale and Isabela began adding her own comments here an there. Fenris remained silent, however she caught him once her twice watching her as she listened to Hawke's tale.

She felt a cold dread settle over her as Hawke began to tell of Anders' involvement with the destruction of the chantry and how had he tipped the delicate balance between the mages and the Templars. At the end of the story Sabriel rose to her feet and walked over to the fire, hands clasped behind her back as she stared into the fire. Her thoughts raged in her head. What in name of the Creators was Anders thinking? Blowing up a chantry? With innocents inside? She shook her head trying to make sense of it all. This was not the same man she had known; he may have been opposed to the treatment of the mages but he would have never resorted to such measures.

"I– thank you." She said softly, her voice trembling slightly, the news about Anders had unsettled her greatly. "I knew Anders." She told Hawke, "He was one of the first warden I recruited, right after the Blight. I used the Right of Conscription and snatched him away from right under the Templars' noses." She gave a weak laugh, "I find it hard to believe that he would go to such measures just to prove a point. I can't believe he… he wasn't…"

"He was an abomination." Fenris said, ignoring the sharp looks Hawke and Bethany were giving him as he continued, "He was a monster."

"He said that he had become the host for a spirit of justice," Hawke added quickly, "unfortunately his anger towards the Templars turned justice into a spirit of revenge."

Sabriel turned to look at Hawke, her eyes narrowing, "Justice?" she asked, her face falling as he nodded confirmation. "Anders you fool!" she said under her breath. It began to fall into place. Anders. Justice. The destruction of the chantry. The others watched in silence as the dalish woman paced.

"Anders… what happened to him afterwards?" She asked suddenly. Hawke had not told of what happened to the mage.

The Champion's face was grim as he met the Warden-Commander's gaze, "He's dead." He said slowly, "I could not… after what he did…"

"I see." She replied quietly, stopping. She turned away as tears threatened to fall. If only Anders had never left the order, if only…"By the dread wolf this is my fault." She said, "If Anders and Justice had never met then…" she wiped her eyes, silently berating herself, she could not have seen that the Anders and Justice meeting would have led to this. She was a firm believer of everything happened for a reason, even if the reason was meaningless or obscure.

"You speak of Justice as if he were a person, Commander." Bethany said; her brows furrowed. Her face was a little paler than usual, she had not known either about Anders' betrayal or his death.

"He was for a while." She explained. "Justice was dragged from the fade into the real world by blood magic. His spirit ended up inhabiting the dead body of an Orlesian warden," she ignored Bethany's gasp, "and decided to stay and aid me as I tried to rebuild the order. Anders and Justice met that way, through me. However Justice disappeared after the battle at Vigil's Keep, we found the body he had been in but Justice wasn't there anymore; I recall Anders telling me that Justice was okay and that he had been in contact with him in the fade afterwards. But I never would of thought that Anders would…"

"None of us did." Hawke said grimly. He was trying to comfort her in his own way.

She gave the Champion a weak smile as she sat in her chair, "The dalish clan at Sundermount, you said the Keeper's name was Marethari, if that is true then that was my clan before I joined the wardens." She tilted her head slightly as she continued, trying to turn the conversation towards something less depressing "You said Merril left the clan and joined you in Kirkwall?"

She was instantly wary as soon as Hawke looked away.

Sabriel continued, trying to ignore her growing sense of unease, "At least she had you around so she wasn't alone in Kirkwall. I hope she didn't bother you too much; Merril could talk a darkspawn to death." She smiled sadly, "I never would have picked her as someone who would leave the clan though; she was dedicated to recovering our history and to our clan."

"Her departure was not entirely her choice." Hawke replied slowly. "The keeper, Marethari, asked that we take Merril with us. The clan had grown…hostile toward her."

Sabriel frowned, "Hostile? But why? Yes, Merril could get on your nerves with her incessant chattering but that's no reason for the clan to be hostile toward her."

The Champion shifted in his seat, "Commander, were you aware that Merril practiced blood magic?"

Merril a blood mage? Sabriel shook her head, "We are talking about the same Merril right? Marethari's First, short black hair, green eyes…"

"Tattoos like branches across her forehead and cheeks?" Hawke interrupted, confirming the dalish woman's fears.

"Blood magic is not uncommon among the dalish, however Marethari did not condone the practice of it." Sabriel said, dropping her head into her hands, "She would not have taught Merril."

Hawke and Isabela exchanged glances. Bethany gathered up her courage and spoke, "When we met Merril at Sundermount for the first time she already knew blood magic." She took a deep breath before continuing, "She had made a contract with a demon who taught her how to use blood magic."

Sabriel's head snapped up, "A demon? She made a contract with a demon?" The dalish woman cursed in elven, "Do you know why she did something so stupid?" she demanded.

"She wanted the demon's help to fix a mirror, an Eluvian she called it." Hawke replied.

Sabriel felt a white-hot fury build up inside of her. She rose to her feet and began to pace, trying to dissipate the anger that burned in her. The Eluvian. That cursed mirror that had caused so much pain and suffering to both Tamlen and herself. Merril had seen with her own eyes what the mirror had done, how Sabriel had been sick for three days for touching the foul thing. Merril had seen how it corrupted everything around it and she had wanted to fix it? She should have known better. How could she? How dare she? How…

In blind fury she punched the stone wall; barely registering that the bones in her hand had snapped until it begun to throb painfully. She pulled her hand gingerly to her chest, red smears left on the grey stone where the skin on her knuckles had split.

She turned and regarded the stunned faces of the others; it took only a few moments for Bethany to get out of her chair and walked over to the elf, examining the Commander's broken hand gently, "What in the Maker's name are you doing Commander?"

The dalish woman winced a little as Bethany gently prodded her hand, "What happened to the rest of the clan?" she asked, ignoring Bethany's question, "I get the feeling there is more to tell."

Sabriel felt a numbness settle over her as Hawke retold the fate of the clan. Her clan. People she had known, people she had grown up with, sat with, ate with, laughed with; her family and her friends. Dead. All of them. Faces flashed by, their voices calling to her from her memories. Marethari, Paivel, Fenarel, Ilen, Maren, Ashalle, Junar, Pol. She recalled telling Alistair that the Grey Wardens were now her family, but right now Sabriel would do anything just to see her clan members one last time. But now it was impossible, because they had paid for Merril's naivety with their lives.

She was dimly aware that her hand had stopped throbbing, the healing green light fading from Bethany's fingertips. She cradled her now-healed hand against her chest and fought for clarity in her grief. It was hard, but as she had done time and time again, she forced her turbulent emotions down, locking them away. She took a few deep breaths before turning to address Hawke and his companions.

"Thank you for telling me." She said courteously, "I must ask that you take your leave now, I- you have given me a lot to think about."

She waited until they had said their farewells and they had filed out of her office, a soft thud signaling that they had departed before she allowed her tears to fall.

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><p><strong>Poor Sabriel :( nothing like finding out that you may have potentially led to the downfall and demise of a friend, and that another friend inadvertently killed your family and friends.<strong>

**Anyways. Please R&R**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for delay of this chapter. It has actually been written for awhile but I have been searching for a beta for this, but due to time differences between countries etc it is a very slow moving process. Still in search of a beta but got sick having to wait to post this, so for now you'll all just have to put up with just me proof reading my own work. Thus, hopefully there will be a beta for the next chapter!**

**A little bit frustrating not having a beta for this chapter - I was very worried about some if Fenris' dialogue, that maybe I had gone a bit too OOC. Please let me know if i have -_-**

**Bioware owns all yada yada.**

**Please R&R :D :D :D**

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><p>Fenris found himself outside the Grey Warden Compound again only two days later, having been driven from Brass Arms by Isabela's bawdy behavior as she detailed one of their more…unfortunate adventures. Both Hawke and himself had quickly found themselves the source of laughter, the Champion sinking into his chair trying to be invisible as his lover began another tale of shame. She was merciless. Fenris had left the tavern scowling – there was only so much mockery he could take before he had to hurt somebody, and he was drawing close to that line.<p>

He flexed his gauntleted hand as he inspected the gates to the Compound, his eyes drawn to the large heraldry that hung above the gates. A giant silver griffon stared down at him, rearing up on its hind legs and its front talons poised to lash out at its enemy. It was crafted in great detail; everything from its cruel looking beak to the feathers of its extended wings was intricate, trying to do justice to the creature that had once populated the skies. The Brass Arms' owner had insisted that every visitor to Denerim had to at least see the gates to the Warden Compound and the silver griffon that guarded them. The griffon was certainly impressive; though in his opinion it was also rather gaudy.

He had come here with the hopes of being able to visit the library, and had it not been for their meeting with the Warden-Commander a few days before he may have returned the next day; but a part of him felt uneasy returning right after telling the dalish woman that her clan was dead. It also did not help that that night he had turned around after they left her office and had caught a glimpse of her tear-filled eyes before the door had closed. Inexplicably that brief glimpse had troubled him – he had wanted to walk back into the room and console her, tell her it would all be all right and wipe the tears from her eyes.

He was not used to those sorts of desires. His was a world of blood and battle – surviving one day to the next with only his sword and his wit to keep him alive. There had never been room for these sorts of thoughts and emotions while he had been on the run. While in recent times since the death of Danarius there had not been much need for him to keep vigil, all those years of being pursued had taken a toll on his emotional state. He was slow to make friends, and even slower to let people close. Hawke was his only confidant. Thus his sudden unfathomable need to comfort the Commander troubled him.

He brushed his concerns aside as he walked through the gates of the compound, ignoring the guard, Whitby, as he glared at the passing elf. He tried to recall the tour Bethany had given them a few days before as he wandered the halls, searching for the warden's library. Eventually he had found it, after begrudgingly asking a warden where the library was.

He stood in the doorway to the large room, once again marveling at all the books there. He hurried over the closest set of shelves, running a hand gently along the spines of the books before pulling one out. The smell of leather and dust hit his nose as he opened the book; it creaked softly as it revealed its pages to his eyes. He felt as little shiver of excitement up his spine as he ran a hand lightly across the yellow pages. In the back of his mind he dimly noted that Varric would have a fit of laughter if he could see Fenris now. He closed the book in his hands and placed it back to its position on the shelf. He wandered idly down through the shelves and shelves of books, lost in his own little world. The wardens' library had books on a whole manner of topics. Everything from poems to stories, ramblings of the mad and the religious and books that covered the history of all the nations – with an exceptionally large proportion devoted to Grey Warden history in particular.

Curiously, Fenris pulled out a book about Tevinter, allowing the book to fall open on a page detailing one of the many Exalted Marches that had been declared against the Imperium during the Black Age. He began to read where he stood, quickly losing himself in the text before his eyes, devouring the information bared before his eyes.

"Are you interested in the Imperium?" a voice asked near him.

Fenris looked up from the book to regard the one who had interrupted his reading. A familiar elf stood before him dressed in the telltale blue and white wardens uniform. He narrowed his eyes at the other elf, trying to place where he had seen the man before. He then noticed the staff visible over the elf's shoulder. Mage. He was the one whom he had meet in the alley on his first night in Denerim, whose sister had been attacked by slavers. What was his name? Lenard? Lester? Leland? That was it, Leland.

He gave a small inclination of his head, "Leland."

The mage smiled slightly, pleased at being remembered, "I thought it was you. Not many white-haired elves around, well ones that aren't old anyway. You reading up on the Imperium?"

Fenris glanced down at the book in his hands, "I am."

"The Imperium is really fascinating, I think it would be a great place to live, aside from all the slavery though of course." Leland said, "I never did get to thank you properly for helping with my sister. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't of been there to help distract them."

"No thanks is required. I have my own grievances against slavers." He said somewhat coldly, hoping that the mage would take the hint and leave him alone. By now he normally would have either stormed off or would be in the midst of arguing with the mage. Only his respect for the wardens had prevented him from doing so now.

Leland, however, didn't pick up the subtle message, "Oh really?" he said, perking up a little, "What happened?"

"It is none of your concern." Fenris replied frostily.

"Ok then, I won't ask." The mage said, shifting on the spot. "If you want to learn more about the Imperium you should read one of Brother Genetivi's works." He continued eagerly, "He has a lot of information about the Imperium's culture and social hierarchies. Much more interesting and enlightening than that old history book."

Fenris couldn't help but scowl, "I am far too familiar with both the culture and the hierarchies for my own liking."

Leland's eyes open wide "You've been to Tevinter?" Fenris nodded hesitantly, "What was it like? Did you like it there? Is Minrathous really as beautiful as they describe?" The elven mage continued to bombard with questions, oblivious to the white-haired elf's growing irritation.

"Stop pestering me with your questions." Fenris growled, his patience finally snapping, "Why are you bothering me with all your inane questions? What is it you want to know? What is Tevinter like? It's hot, full of corrupt magisters and mistreated slaves. Did you know there are more slaves than free men in Tevinter? Did you know that magisters treat slaves like nothing more than livestock? Using them to power their spells, using their blood like a commodity. The magisters are only concerned about their own well-being and their pointless politics and could not give a fig about the slaves." He hissed, "We are beaten, we are abused, forced to hurt each other and watch the ones we care about destroyed before our eyes. Not enough food, not enough sleep and punished for even the slightest of mistakes. What is so wonderful about a country that has been built on the blood, sweat and tears of hundreds of thousands of slaves? A country that has been fueled by the greedy and the corrupt alike?"

Leland took a step back at Fenris' outburst; his hands held up in a defensive gesture, "I didn't me–"

The ex-slave cut him off, "And you said you wanted to live in such a place. You mages are all the same, power hungry and willing to do whatever it takes to achieve that power. You give a mage a chance at freedom and you'll abuse your power and turn all of Thedas into the Imperium. Blood magic, consorting with demons; deny it all you want, mages will always find a way to justify their need for power."

The warden mage's face had darkened, his eyes flashing as he glared up at the taller elf, "Now you look here." Leland began, pointing a finger accusingly at Fenris, "I don't know what your hang up is about mages, but just because I am a mage doesn't mean I use blood magic or consort with demons – the same can be said for any mage. We are oppressed enough as it is and we can do without people like you who condemn us for what we are, it's not like we have any control over whether we can use magic or not."

"I have heard it all before, "Fenris retorted sharply, "and have seen with my own eyes the very mages who preached such things resort to blood magic or become abominations themselves."

Lightning ran up Leland's arms as he fought to control his temper, Fenris allowed his lyrium brands to glow in response. The two elves glared at each other, each of them brimming with hostility toward the other. Unbeknownst to them a small crowd had surrounded them, drawn by the angry, raised voices that had echoed around the normally quiet library. Bethany pushed her way through the crowd and hurried forward to stand between the too.

"Both of you calm down." She said sternly, glowering at them both, "You're behaving like children."

Leland stared at the other mage before taking a deep breath and calming himself enough to quell his magic. Bethany's head then whipped around to Fenris, silently glaring at him.

"Fenris." She warned, ignoring the elf as he growled a little.

He met her gaze and he suddenly remembered where he was and what he was doing. The blue glow faded from his skin, the crowd murmuring softly to each other at the bizarre spectacle. Fenris sneered at the elven mage before turning on his heel and stalking out of the library, feeling very much a fool. He ignored Bethany's calls after him, trying to put as much distance between himself and Leland as possible. However, he quickly grew lost within the confines of the compound, having paid no heed to where he had been walking. He found himself in small courtyard containing an even smaller manicured garden with stone benches.

He collapsed on one of the benches and realized he had taken the book from the library with him. He carefully placed the leather volume on the bench beside him – he would return it later. He buried his face into his hands as he tried to calm himself. It had been a long time since he had gotten this worked up about mages, he felt somewhat ashamed of himself for allowing his emotions to get the better of him. No matter how much he and Hawke had argued and debated, Fenris had had no luck trying to get past his hostility toward mages. It was deeply ingrained into his persona; too deep to change. He had begun to be able to tolerate them, even if just barely, and he had made an effort to be more civil than he normally was when he met mages, but it had taken just mere moments for him to return to his old habits.

He was broken out of his revere by the sound of scuffling above and he lifted his head toward the noise. "I thought it was you. What brings you here today?" The Commander asked as she half lent out of the second story window, her top half hanging out precariously. Fenris half expected the rest of her to topple out of the window any second now.

Fenris inspected her face, searching for any signs of the grief and anger she had displayed the other night, but all he could see was curiosity and a half smile she had gracing her features. "I came to visit the library." He told her; "One of the wardens and I had a…disagreement of sorts." There was no need to hide it; he was in no doubt that news of Leland's and his clash would reach her ears at some point.

A brow rose in response, "Oh aye?"

Fenris sighed and looked away. He did not wish to elaborate.

"Are you on your way home now?" She asked from her perilous position.

"I was." Fenris replied.

Sabriel smirked, "Lost again are we?"

"I am." He answered, trying to hide his embarrassment.

The Commander's torso disappeared from view and Fenris thought for a moment she might have just left him there. But she soon returned to view, adjusting a cloak she had fastened around her shoulders. Without another word she leapt nimbly down from the window, landing with a grace that would make a cat envious.

She grinned as she walked up to him, "Well then, I suppose I shall just have to lead you out. I've been told I give horrible directions so I'll just have to do it the old fashioned way." She said cheekily.

Fenris rose to his feet, grabbing the book from the bench. "If you don't m–"

He was cut off a Torsten's upper body appeared from the window Sabriel had just left from, "Commander, you need to finish these forms before you can go gallivanting about Denerim."

Sabriel pouted up at the human, "I'll do them when I get back," she told him, "I need to visit the market before the merchants close up for the day."

"But the papers need to be signed today!" Torsten said, rubbing his temples, "You can visit the market tomorrow."

Sabriel's answer was to grab Fenris' arm and start running.

Torsten yelled after the Commander but she ignored him, picking up her pace as she navigated her way through the compound. All Fenris could do was to keep up with her. He knew that if he stopped she would probably just keep running and drag him along behind her. Unfortunately each time she changed direction (which she seemed to be doing a lot) his arm felt like it was being yanked out his shoulder as his body accommodated to the unexpected change of direction. Eventually they emerged from the compound and stormed through the gates, the guard Whitby staring speechless as the Commander and Fenris sped past.


	8. Chapter 8

**Still in search of beta - sent requests to 15+ ppl and only one replied... to say that they had a full workload and couldn't do it... -_-**

**le sigh.**

**So, as I am getting somewhat impatient (in the time I have been waiting I have written at least 4 more chapters) I shall present to you the next chapter in all its self-proofread glory. Woo!**

**Also, I should point out the change in the story description ;)**

**blah blah bioware owns blah blah blah**

**On with the Show! :D**

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><p>After leading him through a few more backstreets she finally came to a stop, looking back over her shoulder to make sure her aid had not pursued her.<p>

"Do you make a habit of shirking your work?" Fenris asked sarcastically as he rolled his shoulder.

She laughed softly, "Only when they give me too much. I am a warden, a dalish and a warrior through and through. I am not meant to be stuck behind a desk day after day." She cast a glance back at him, "Besides, my skills would get rusty if I didn't try to escape at least once in a while."

"From what I have heard it seems to be a regular occurrence." Came his sardonic reply.

The Commander's lips twitched as she fought another smile, "Well in my defense, I hate being held up in doors. If they let me have my office outside amongst the trees I may be more inclined to do the work."

Fenris raised a brow quizzically. He wasn't buying it.

"Well maybe not, but it would still be nicer." She added.

She glanced down and noticed she was still holding onto the white-haired elf's arm, quickly dropping it as a faint blush spread across her cheeks, "Oh I'm sorry. I forgot about the whole not-liking-to-be-touched-thing."

Fenris, for his part, had not really noticed. He rubbed the spot self-consciously; his skin seemed to burn a little where she had touched him. "It is of no consequence." He told her briskly.

Sabriel smiled uneasily, "I'm normally not so forgetful of other's personal conditions. Back during the Blight one of my companions, a woman by the name of Morrigan, did not like to be touched. I respected her preferences – though if I had tried to get too close unnecessarily she may have turned me into a toad." She laughed awkwardly, "In any case, I'm sorry."

"No damage was done." Fenris felt his own cheeks redden. It was completely illogical, why in Thedas would he suddenly become embarrassed because she was. It made no sense. "My brands are sensitive, " he explained, looking down at his arms and the lyrium brands that marked his skin as he did so, "they were put on me by my former master. All I remember of the process is that it was inexplicably painful. It is because of that, that I associate touch with pain."

Fenris did not know the reason why he had divested some of his past to the woman before him – but a lot was happening recently that which he had no explanation for.

The dalish woman looked a little stunned at this pearl of information, "They are not normal tattoos then?" she asked.

"No. They're lyrium which has been burned into my skin." He met her eyes, "They are the reason my ex-master pursued me after I had escaped."

"Oh." Sabriel shifted, "Do… do they hurt?"

Fenris dropped his eyes back down to the lyrium tattoos on his arms, running his hand idly along his arm, "Sometimes they are exceedingly painful, sometimes I barely notice the pain – but it is always there."

"I'm sorry they hurt." She said softly.

He looked up sharply, feeling something tighten in his chest at the sad look in her eyes, "You do not need to apologize for something you had nothing to do with." He said.

She gave him a wiry smile, "Sometimes it helps."

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><p>By the time they reached the market, the melancholy atmosphere from their previous conversation had dissipated. Part of him was mentally kicking himself for divesting information about himself to this woman who was essentially a stranger, and another part for making her sad – she did not need anything else to cause her unhappiness. He decided on the walk over to the market that she must be the cause of all his unease, the strange impulses and feeling he had been having. Common sense would say to stay away from her so that the feelings would go away. Yet he had stayed with her – another of those strange impulses no doubt.<p>

Sabriel had pulled the hood of her cloak over her head shortly after leaving the alley, weaving expertly through the crowds of Denerim, glancing back every now and again to see if he was still following. She stopped near the markets, letting out a contented sigh as she looked out over the bustling heart of the city.

"It's been a while since I was allowed out to enjoy the market." She told him, amber eyes flicking over to meet his.

"I do recall that you were not exactly 'allowed out'. Your personal assistant was quite vocal in his protests as you ran away." Fenris replied dryly.

She waved a hand dismissively, "If it were up to him I would be eternally chained to my desk. His opinion doesn't matter in the least."

Fenris chuckled in reply, falling in step as Sabriel picked her way through the crowd of the market. She led him to a string of buildings, each sporting large, brightly coloured signs displaying the shop's name and their wares. She entered one of the shops; Fenris only had a brief glimpse of the sign above – a red stag on a yellow background with a pair of crossed swords – before he entered the shop behind the Commander.

He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dark interior of the shop. Weapons and armor of all shapes and sizes lined the walls, some placed delicately in racks others shoved haphazardly into barrels and crates. He noticed that the back of the shop was open, revealing a small closed off yard. Waves of heat radiated from the large forge at the back of the shop.

Sabriel strode towards a large man in a dirty leather apron who sat polishing a silver breastplate, a smile forming on her face as she greeted the man. "Bryson." she said loudly, the blacksmith's head whipping up at the sound of his name, "How is my favourite blacksmith in Denerim?"

"Commander Mahariel." Bryson replied, setting the breastplate aside and getting to his feet. The man was huge; he could easily rival a qunari in height. "It had been a while since you have graced my shop with your presence. How can I help you this fine afternoon?"

The dalish woman pulled her hood down as she lent against the counter, looking up at the large man "I'm here to pick up that shield I ordered last time I was here."

"I was wondering when you were coming to come pick that up. It's been sitting in the back for a while now." Bryson said. The large man turned and called for his apprentice, the boy appearing almost instantaneously from the yard. Bryson gave the boy orders to get the shield, watching as the boy disappeared from view before turning back to the warden. He lent against the bench so that his head was level with Sabriel's, "I take it you're not just here for the shield." He said conspiratorially, his eyes flicking over to where Fenris stood inspecting a sword before flicking back to the Commander, an unspoken question in his eyes.

"He's safe." The Commander replied, "Do you have any 'packages' for me?"

The blacksmith's face was impassive for a second before breaking out in a smile. "That I do Commander." He straightened himself before walking over to the anvil.

Fenris joined Sabriel at the counter, curious at what the large man was doing. The dalish woman's amber eyes glanced up at him for a second before returning to watch Bryson. The large man knelt down next to the anvil and placed his hands on the block of wood that the anvil sat on. His fingers ran down one side of the wood before he found what he was looking for and pushed. With a soft click the side of the block of wood came away to reveal a hole. Bryson reached down into the hole, his arm disappearing just past his elbow. When he withdrew his hand, he had a stack of tightly bound letters in his grasp.

Bryson quickly replaced the side of the block, got to his feet and handed the bundle to the dalish woman. The woman examined the stack of letters, her amber eyes resting on a small symbol drawn on front of one of the letters. "Free Marches eh?" she said softly.

"Also Antiva and Rivain I believe." Bryson added, wiping his hands, "Tevinter and Nevarra a due in a couple of weeks."

Fenris studied the stack of letters from where he stood as Sabriel gave Bryson a sack of coins, "For your troubles Bryson." She said, tucking the bundle away in a pocket on her belt. Fenris felt his curiosity piqued; he wanted to know what was in those letters.

Sabriel and Bryson chatted light-heartedly as they waited for his apprentice to return. When the boy returned he came carrying an assortment of shields in his small arms; Bryson looked less than pleased as the boy placed his load on the counter.

"What's all this?" He asked his apprentice.

The boy looked down at his feet, "I couldn't remember which shield it was," the boy replied sheepishly, "so I bought them all."

The blacksmith ran a hand down his face, "By the Maker. Boy, it was the one wrapped in cloth against the far wall near the axes. Go get it." The boy reached for the shields on the counter, "No don't take these back just yet, get the shield first and then take these back." Bryson let out a long sigh as the boy hurried away, "He's a good kid but I'm afraid there is not much going through that head of his. Not much I can do about it though; he's my sister's kid – if I let him go then I would never hear the end of it from her and, Andraste's ass, she's not one you want to mess with. Got a tongue of acid that one does."

Once the boy had returned with the correct shield, Sabriel bid farewell to Bryson and his apprentice; Fenris following behind her silently as she left the smithy.

"He's an interesting character." Fenris commented as they walked away from the shop.

"The few blacksmith's I have met have all had their own little quirks." The Commander replied, looking at him over the large shield she held in her arms.

He dropped his eyes to the cloth-covered shield, "What is the shield for?"

"It is a present for a friend of mine." She said, pulling down a bit of the cloth to reveal the heraldry. A silver griffon on a blue background came into view, which was not entirely unusual, but Fenris found his eyes drawn to the center of the shield in which, was that…?

"Is that cheese?" He asked incredulously.

"It is." Sabriel replied.

He raised his eyes to meet hers; "You got a shield with a silver griffon and a slice of golden cheese on it made for your friend? You actually paid to have this made?"

She shrugged, "They're two of his favourite things."

"Griffons and cheese?" He said, looking back down at the shield.

"Yep."

"Are any of you wardens normal?" He asked; "On second thoughts, do not answer that question. I would rather not know."

Sabriel laughed and Fenris felt that weird feeling swell up inside him again. "Was that all you had to do in the markets?" He asked quickly, trying to ignore the weird feeling.

She shook her head, "A few more stops," she informed him, "although you are free to leave whenever you wish. You don't have to accompany me."

He shrugged, feigning indifference, "I have no better way to spend my afternoon."

She gave him a quick smile, "Very well then, come along Fenris." She pulled the cloth back over the shield before turning, leading the way to the next destination.

The Commander, it seemed, was well known as well as well liked by the people of Denerim. She had a smile and a greeting for each person who called out to her and often stopped to chat with some of the stall owners. Fenris watched her as she talked, studying the way her dalish tattoos moved as she talked, the way her eyes flashed with humor and the way her hair moved as the wind blew gently against it. She was an elf, she was dalish, and yet she walked among these people as an exalted figure. There was no hostility toward the woman of any kind; no contemptuous stares, no derogatory names, nothing.

He was somewhat surprised that he was receiving no ill attention either, but he figured it had to do with the Commander's presence. She finished talking to a stall owner and looked back at Fenris, her lips curving into a smile as she caught him staring at her. He quickly looked away, feeling himself blush again. Curse this strange feeling.

Eventually Sabriel led Fenris to some crates sitting next to a wall. She placed the shield on one of the crates and sat down on one of the adjacent crates. She patted a clear spot on the crate next to her, indicating he should sit as well. As he settled himself she rummaged through the large pockets of her hip satchel. She pulled out two cloth wrapped bundles, offering one to Fenris. Fenris accepted the bundle from her and opened it, discovering to his surprise, and to his pleasure, a honey bun; a still slightly warm honey bun. She must have bought it when he was not paying attention.

Sabriel unwrapped her bun and bit into it, watching him as he did the same. "I haven't had such a relaxing afternoon for a long time." She said, taking another bite out of the warm, sweet bread.

"After the other night you probably need time to relax." Fenris replied, regretting the words instantly as soon as they left his mouth.

He looked hesitantly over at her, noting the tightness in her features as she looked out over the busy market. "Aye. That I do, however I don't have the luxury of that time."

"My apologies, I did not mean to bring up unpleasant memories." Fenris said quickly, looking down at the bun in his hands. He was an idiot for bringing that up.

She sighed, "What done is done. There is nothing that can be done to bring back my clan, nor rectify what Anders had become." She turned to look at him, her eyes sad, "There is also nothing that can be done to ease you of your pain, and of the memories you have of your life as a slave. We all continue as we did before, living each day as it comes."

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "Are you ok?"

She hummed quietly, "It hurts, I won't lie about that. But I cannot let their loss hinder me; Keeper Marethari would cuff my ears if I ever thought of doing so." She fiddled with the bun in her hand, "I lost both my parents when I was young, so young that I can barely recall what they looked like, but Keeper Marethari used to tell me that although my parents were not in this world anymore they still lived on in my heart, and as long as I remembered them then they would never truly die." She smiled weakly, "So as long as I remember my clan, they are not truly dead."

Fenris did not know how to respond to her words, instead studying the bun in his hands. Sabriel finished off her bun quickly and hoped off the crate, wiping her hands off on her breeches.

"I should return to the compound," She said, reaching for the shield, "I trust you'll be able to find your way back to your inn?"

He dragged his gaze away from the bun to her, nodding silently at her question. She smiled half-heartedly, "Dareth Shiral Fenris." She said before turning away and vanishing into the crowd, leaving Fenris sitting on the crate feeling very much a fool.

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><p><strong>Go Fenris the oblivious-to-the-meaning-behind-his-own-feelings!<strong>

**R&R!**

**btw - can any of you guess who the shield is for? ^_^**


	9. Chapter 9

**Ok. So after a somewhat small delay here is the next chapter! Brought to you with the help of the wonderful and talented ms45 - my new Beta! Round of applause please for her brilliant work!**

**To all those who sent me messages about who the recipient of the shield may be... you'll just have to wait until later :P it will be revealed in due course!**

**As always; please R&R :)**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age etc etc etc **

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><p>Mahighan lifted opened one brown eye as he heard the door open, letting out a soft wuff as he caught sight of his mistress. Sabriel placed the shield carefully against the wall before walking over to pat the old mabari's head. He closed his eyes in bliss as she scratched him behind his ears. She gazed fondly down at the old dog; he had been her companion since the battle of Ostagar, fighting alongside her against the darkspawn and the Archdemon. Back then he had been bright-eyed and full of energy, but age had taken its toll on her faithful canine companion and he now preferred to spend his days sleeping in front of the hearth rather than bounding around under the sun. Flecks of grey could be seen in his mahogany coat and the kaddis war paint on his back had faded away. Frankly she was surprised he was still alive, considering all that the hound had been through over the years.<p>

Sabriel rose and walked over to her desk, flopping herself into her chair with a tired sigh. She had thought that she had put her grief behind her, even if just for a short while, but her conversation with Fenris earlier had bought it all bubbling to the surface. In some way it was relieving to talk to the other elf about it, but it was too soon, the wound too raw, to do her any good at this time.

Maybe she would talk to him later about it… if he was still around.

The ex-slave was like a breath of fresh air in her life; a pleasant intrusion in the day-to-day scheme of things. He was unconcerned about her status as Warden-Commander and spoke to her as an equal. She figured it must be in some part to do with his friendship with Hawke; the Champion's renown was equal to, if not greater than, her own. She respected his differences and was inexplicably drawn by them. His past fascinated her, the lyrium tattoos intrigued her and she found herself wishing for just another small bit of information about the tall elf.

She imagined for a moment his thick white hair, framing his handsome face; his dark green eyes and the bizarre markings on his skin, so beautiful yet so sad.

Thinking about him left a familiar feeling in her chest; a feeling she had not felt for years. By the Creators, she had only known Fenris for less than a week! She leaned back in her chair, massaging her temples as she did so. She was too old for this; at least she had thought she had been until Fenris had showed up and had her acting like a young chit again. She was a grown woman for Creator's sake, she should not be getting all jumpy and embarrassed because she had been caught stealing a glance or two. She should be flashing a grin at him when he looked her way, maybe sway her hips a bit more as she walked away. Add that with a backwards glance over her shoulder and she was sure that the other elf would get the hint.

She pushed all thoughts of the green-eyed elf out of her mind, pulling the stack of letters she had received from Bryson out of her belt pocket. She had work to do. She looked at the stack of unfinished forms that sat on the desk for a brief moment before pushing them to the side, dropping the bundle in her hand in its place. The damned forms could wait. She unbound the letters, letting them spread across the desk before picking up the topmost one and unsealing it. Each and every one of the letters were reports from the other branches of the Grey Wardens, or from small groups of wardens out in the field observing darkspawn behavior.

In the past, the missives between the wardens had been intercepted time and time again; secret information was suddenly revealed to the populace, vital information had not reached its destination, traps were set and lives lost. Thus, the wardens had set up a covert courier system, spanning across all of Thedas. Secret drops, hidden letters, faceless couriers who ensured that the wardens' information was secured at all times. Bryson had been acting as the contact in Denerim now for several years.

The first letter was from the Rivaini wardens; there was little of note in the letter itself although there were two smaller pieces of folded parchment that were attached to the letter, the names of two of the Rivaini wardens in Ferelden scrawled on the outside of each. Sabriel placed them aside; she would ensure that they reached their intended recipients later. She quickly opened and scanned the remaining letters, a frown growing on her face as she read.

The Antivans reported that there seemed to be a growing darkspawn presence along their southern border; the border between Antiva and the Free Marches. For the last several years there had been unusual increase in darkspawn activity in the Free Marches. There had been many ventures into the Deep Roads there to try and figure out what was causing the disturbance, a few had even tried to reach the Lost Thaig Hawke had visited, but none had succeeded so far.

The Dalish elf laid the letters out on her desk, frowning at them; the increase in darkspawn sightings was alarming. There had been a lull after the defeat of the Archdemon, which was normal, however the numbers of darkspawn seen in recent years on the surface was beginning to reach pre-Blight numbers. To have two Blights in short succession was not possible…was it?

However her dreams had been subdued for many years, only when she had been in close proximity with actual darkspawn had she had any nightmares now. She hoped that the lack of dreams was a good sign .

It had been often drawn to her attention that the fifth Blight had been unusual in itself. The Archdemon had been quick to show itself, and the actual Blight itself had spanned only a year, not decades like the previous four. She had heard it time and time again that this Blight ended "before it even began". She had spent many evenings musing over the events of the fifth Blight, the unusual speed of the Blight and the Architect's involvement. She had pored over his notes with Avernus, trying to make sense of what he was trying to discover. They had had very little luck in deciphering the Architect's notes, but regardless, she was still glad she had killed the sentient darkspawn when she had the chance.

Could it be possible there was another like the Architect? Another sentient darkspawn that could resist the call of the old gods? She dared not even try to imagine what sort of havoc that would cause on Thedas. Armies of darkspawn that could actually think and reason… all life in Thedas would be doomed.

Sabriel quickly got to her feet, an idea forming in her head. She pushed the desk and chairs against the wall, rolling the large mat so that the floor was bare. Mahighan raised his greyed muzzle to watch his mistress as she prepared the room, getting to his feet to have a closer inspection into what she was up to. Sabriel sat on the floor with a book of maps she had pulled out from the bookcase, flipping the pages until she found a map of the Free Marches. Then with some chalk, she copied the map into the wooden floor, Mahighan trotting along behind her as she moved about on the floor. Eventually he started nudging the book with his nose, shifting the book so that his mistress could have a clear view of the map.

With the map completed, Sabriel grabbed the letters, placing them on the corresponding spots on the map where they had reported darkspawn activity. Once they had all been placed she rummaged through her desk drawers, pulling out older reports and placing them on the chalk map. Then finally she placed the book of maps where the Lost Thaig was suspected to be.

She stepped back to view the map, taking a sharp intake of breath as she saw what was revealed.

The area between Kirkwall and Starkhaven, the Wildervale and the Vimmark Mountains, was completely covered by parchment, the leather bound book sitting dead in the center. Blazes. That could not mean anything good.

She slumped to the floor, staring at the map before her, cursing softly. What in Thedas did this all mean? She lent forward, resting her head against the wooden floor. She was absolutely still while her mind raced, trying to figure out what this meant. There must be a connection between the darkspawn and the Lost Thaig, a reason why there was increased darkspawn activity in the areas surrounding the Thaig…

Mahighan settled himself right behind his elven mistress, stretching his large paws out before quickly falling into slumber. Sabriel stayed in her position as she tried to figure out what the blazes was going on in the Free Marches. With a cry of frustration she lifted her head off the floor and lent back over her mabari, scowling at the wall behind her.

She did not have enough information; she could not figure it out!

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><p>Sabriel awoke to soft tapping on her shoulder. She rolled over to see who it was and instantly regretted it as her body screamed in protest. She forced herself up onto her elbows, looking bleary-eyed at the person who had intruded on her sleep. Her eyes quickly found Torsten's as he looked down at her.<p>

"What are you doing Commander?" He asked, a faint smile tugging at his features.

"What does it look like? I was sleeping." She gave him a reproaching look, "Now tell me what you are doing in my bedroom and what warrants you to wake me."

Torsten made a show of looking about the room, "I do believe this is your study Commander."

Sabriel blinked slowly before looking about the room herself. Bookcases lined the walls, the desk and chairs and pushed to the sides of the room and the rolled up rug blocked the entrance to the room. And there, in the center of the room was the chalk map with the reports and the book placed on it. A soft snort behind her drew her attention to the sleeping mabari behind her, whom she had been using as a pillow for most of the night. The fire in the hearth had died down and sunlight streamed in through the windows.

It was morning.

Sabriel groaned as she sank back onto the floorboards, raising her hands to cover her eyes, "What time is it?"

"A little bit before eight, breakfast has yet to be called." Torsten replied from where he crouched beside her. "I see you didn't finish those forms." He added as he caught sight of the stack on the desk.

"I was busy." The elf replied, lifting a hand to look at the young man, "Had more important things to do."

He arched a brow in disbelief.

Sabriel sat back up, hissing as her stiff muscles protested, "You see that, Torsten?" she asked, pointing to the mass of paper in the center of the room, "That is a map of the Free Marches, and each pit of paper is a report on darkspawn activity from the last four years." She watched as a look of comprehension filled his dark eyes, "They have been placed roughly where they have spotted darkspawn. And in the center, that book indicates where we expect the Lost Thaig to be."

"But that means…" Torsten looked quickly back at his Commander.

Sabriel forced herself to her feet, "It means something is going on under the Free Marches." She raised a hand to her forehead, "Can you get me Stroud and Bethany? I need to talk to them. Also send for Hawke, he may know something about the Lost Thaig."

The young archer got to his feet, "Right away Commander." He replied.

Sabriel opened her mouth to continue but was cut off by the loud rumble of her stomach. She shut her mouth quickly and looked down at the offending part of her anatomy.

"Shall I call for them after breakfast, Commander?" Torsten asked, hiding a grin.


	10. Chapter 10

**Here is the next Chapter - Woo!  
>For those of you who may or may not be concerned about the pace of the story - don't worry it will begin to speed up in the coming chapters :)<strong>

**I love writing scenes with Isabela XD she's fun to write :P**

**R&R as always**

**Bioware owns dragon age etc. etc. **

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><p>The Warden-Commander's summons arrived at the Brass Arms a little before noon. Isabela had just emerged from the room Hawke and she shared, yawning loudly as she descended the stairs into the inn's parlor. A nervous looking courier stood nearby the bar, trying, and failing, to catch the proprietor's attention. The old man was busy scolding one of the serving maids.<p>

The pirate paid no attention to the courier as she sashayed past him, bee-lining to where Hawke sat playing diamondback with a scowling Fenris – the elf must be losing, she speculated, smiling to herself at his obvious misfortune. She slid into the seat next to Hawke, eyeing his cards as she pressed herself against him.

"Morning Sweet" she said, placing a small kiss on his cheek while her hand snaked around to pinch his rear end.

Hawke gave an undignified little yelp, dropping the cards in his hands onto the table. He turned swiftly toward her, "Isabela!" he cried in indignation, a blush just visible beneath his black beard.

She gave a hearty laugh in reply, "How's the game going?" she asked.

The Champion scowled. "Quite well until you showed up. I had him right where I wanted him until you foiled my plans by making me show my cards to the world."

"I believe I owe you a drink Isabela." Fenris said, smirking at the Champion. He looked down at Hawke's dropped cards, clicking his tongue, "I can't believe it. You had me thinking you were sitting on something big."

"I was going to make you look like an absolute fool until Isabela here had to come over and spoil it all." The warrior complained, slumping into his chair.

"Oh come now Hawke. Don't be such a sour puss." Isabela grinned at her lover. She loved getting him riled up like this. "How about we have a drink and then we can start up a new game."

Hawke sighed, "You only just got up. Are you honestly going to start drinking now?" he asked.

The pirate's reply was to shoot him a smug little grin, calling out to one of the serving girls to bring her some ale.

"I suppose that answers your question." Fenris chuckled, gathering all the cards up and placing the deck neatly in the center of the table. "Have you not learnt, in all your time spent with Isabela, that for her it is never too early for alcohol?"

"Not really," the Champion replied, "I suppose I didn't really notice since I was too busy running around Kirkwall most of the time." Hawke leant back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. "I hardly ever had a moment to myself before. It was like I had this sign stuck to me that read: 'Come and tell me about your problems, I give a damn and I can fix them for you'. It is nice to actually have time to sit and rest for a change; to relax and do the things I want to do instead of solving other people's problems."

"That's because you are too much of a goody-goody, Hawke. You could never say no." Isabela said. Her voice went up an octave as she began to imitate some of the residents of Kirkwall, "'Oh please help me Serrah, darkspawn are running rampant in my garden! Could you please go and kill them while I organize a group of thugs to kill you afterwards because you trampled all over my roses'. 'Oh Serrah Hawke, you must help me find my dog! Although I did not mention that it is not actually my dog but one I stole from some noblewoman so you'll get in trouble when you return it to me'. 'Oh Hawke, our family heirloom was stolen from us by thieves! Can you retrieve it for us? However we don't have any money so we won't be able to pay you afterwards, but we'll give you this smelly old sock for all your troubles'."

She was about to begin another but Hawke cut her off, "I get the point Isabela."

"Just trying to help." She shot back. She broke out in a grin as the serving girl returned with her ale; she took a large swig of the dark brew, letting out a content sigh as she placed the cup back on the table. "They may not have rum here, but their ale's pretty good. Way better than that piss they served at the Hanged Man."

"You're paying more for less though." Hawke commented, studying the dark liquid.

"It's a small price to pay" she said, taking another drink.

"That's because it isn't coming out of your pocket." He countered dryly.

"Since when have you been frugal with your money, Hawke?" Isabela asked. "Well, since the Deep Roads expedition." She rectified as Hawke shot her a disbelieving look.

Hawke reached out and removed the ale from Isabela's grasp, taking a large gulp of the drink before she had a chance to protest. She quickly snatched her drink back, staring sorrowfully down at the decreased amount of ale in the cup. He smacked his lips loudly, drawing Isabela's attention back to him; "Ever since you opened a tab at the bar." He told her, grinning as one of the pirate's carefully groomed eyebrows twitched.

Whatever witty reply Isabela had come up with was lost when a nervous looking courier cleared his throat loudly. The three all turned their heads toward the intruder. The courier was a skinny lad, whose already fair skin paled even more under the intense stares of Hawke, Isabela and Fenris. He shifted restlessly on the spot as he fidgeted with the worried letter in his hands.

"I-Is one of you S-Ser Hawke?" the courier managed to squeak out, sweat forming on his brow.

Hawke raised a brow, "I am" he said, leaning back in his chair; positioning himself carefully so that the courier could see the huge greatsword that lent against the wall behind him.

The lad's eyes widened as he caught sight of the sword, gulping stuck out his hand quickly, shoving the crumpled letter into Hawke's face, "Letter for you Ser!" he said quickly, "From the wardens."

The Champion took the letter from the nervous courier, the lad jumping back like a startled deer as soon as he relinquished the letter to Hawke.

"Will that be all?" the courier asked meekly. Hawke waved a hand dismissively and the courier all but ran out of the inn.

"Was that really necessary?" Isabela asked as soon as the courier had disappeared out of the door, "Scaring the kid and all. He looked like a gust of wind would send him flying."

"It's character building." the Champion replied, opening the letter.

Isabela let out a sound of disbelief before turning to look at the door the courier had disappeared through, "Poor kid. Must be hard having to come all the way out here to deliver a message from the Warden Compound; Denerim isn't exactly the safest of places, especially the back streets." She turned back to look at her companions, "I hope he makes it back alive."

Fenris ignored Isabela, leaning forward on the table as Hawke read the letter, "What does it say?"

Hawke passed the letter over to Fenris, "The Commander wants to meet."

Fenris raised a brow, studying the letter, "Why?" he asked.

The Champion shrugged, "It doesn't say."

Isabela plucked the letter out of Fenris' hands, reading the letter out loud quickly: "Hawke, I need to talk to you. Please come to the compound at your earliest convenience. Sincerely, Warden-Commander Mahariel." Isabela flipped the letter around as if there might be something hidden on the back, frowning as she discovered the back of the parchment was bare. "Well that doesn't help in least. It doesn't say a thing."

"It does: she wants to see me." Hawke sighed, "Well I better see what she wants." Hawke said, rising to his feet, "It's not like I have anything better to do anyways."

"But Hawke," Isabela whined, "You were going to come with me to check up on my baby today."

The Champion rolled his eyes, "Come now Isabela, we went down and saw the ship yesterday, and the day before that and the day before that." He said as he picked up his greatsword and placed it on his back.

"Any more 'before's and we would actually be on the ship." Fenris added dryly. He had not fared well on the trip over; the white haired elf had spent the first couple of days hanging over the ship's balustrade being badly seasick.

The pirate pouted but did not respond, opting instead to scull down the rest of her ale before loudly demanding another. Hawke could not help but feel a shiver run down his spine as he left the Brass Arms – he was not looking forward to seeing how much the tab had grown by the time he returned.

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><p>Hawke rapped softly on the door to the Commander's office, looking up and down the corridor uninterestedly as he waited for admittance. He did not have to wait long as the door was opened a few seconds later by a young man whom Hawke recognized as Commander Mahariel's personal assistant, Torsten. The brown haired man stepped back to allow the Champion to enter the room, closing the door after the Champion entered. The first thing Hawke noticed when he entered was the state of disarray of the Commander's office. He raised a brow at all the furniture that had been pushed up against the walls and at the mass of paper in the center of the room.<p>

"Hawke, you're late." The Commander said from where she sat on her desk, frowning. "I sent for you hours ago."

"I came as soon as I got your letter," he replied with a nonchalant shrug.

The elf let out an aggravated sigh, "Whatever, you're here now, that is all that matters."

"What's he doing here?" A gruff voice asked, drawing Hawke's attention to the other wardens in the room.

Bethany and Stroud, the stuffy Orlesian warden Hawke had met on several occasions in Kirkwall, stood near the fireplace; Stroud's stern glare boring into the Champion.

"I wanted to know that myself." Hawke turned back to the Commander, "Why did you want me to come here?"

The elf laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them, "You and Bethany are the only two who have been to the Lost Thaig." Her amber eyes flicked briefly over to Bethany, "Your sister has filled me in on the details regarding the expedition, however you were there to witness all the events that followed. I want to know more about this lyrium idol that you found."

"The idol?" Hawke shifted on the spot, his brows furrowing in confusion, "I already told you about the idol."

"You told me about its involvement with the events in Kirkwall, but you did not tell me about the idol itself" she countered, "I believe there is more to that idol than meets the eye. Was there anything particular about the idol? Something you might have missed in your tale?"

Hawke glanced around the room, trying to sift through his memories of the idol. Despite this though, the question of _why does the Commander want to know more about the idol?_ kept popping into his head. He looked over at where the Dalish woman sat studying him, her face impassive. He decided to take a punt and began to retell the few encounters he had had with the lyrium idol or its effects. He was nowhere near as good as Varric at weaving a tale, and he was pretty sure he had forgotten a lot of what had transpired, but he recalled the events to the best of his ability.

The Commander stiffened suddenly midway through his monologue, her eyes widening slightly. "Hold on." She interrupted, "This Bartrand person, the insane dwarf, he said that the idol was singing?"

Hawke noticed that the other three wardens at the room all stiffened at their Commander's question – obviously they were privy to information he was not aware of. "Yes. He did." Hawke affirmed, "The idol drove him mad and he said he could hear it singing. On top of that, the bastard forced his men to eat lyrium so that they could hear the singing too." He heard Bethany take a sharp intake of breath and Torsten mutter a curse under his breath.

"Did you ever hear any of this singing yourself?" Stroud asked quickly.

"No." Hawke furrowed his brow as he searched his mind for memories about the idol. "Although one of my companions, another dwarf, he seemed to be entranced by a fragment of the idol we found. Almost as soon as he set his eyes on it his personality seemed to change. I convinced him to give me the shard, which I then gave to Anders to destroy."

Stroud moved over to where the Commander sat, leaning down to whisper something quickly in Orlesian in her ear. She replied softly in the same language, the older warrior's face going grim before he turned quickly and left the room, giving a brief nod to Hawke as he passed the Champion.

"I take it this news is not pleasant." Hawke commented dryly.

The elven woman's eyes met his; he was a little surprised to see an intense weariness in their amber depths. "It is not. I wish it was a coincidence but it is proving more and more not to be." She waved a hand dismissively, "Go, I need some time to think."

Bethany and Torsten both bowed politely to their Commander and filed out of the room. Hawke began to follow the other two but faltered, stopping hesitantly by the door. Something irked him about what the Dalish woman had just said. He silently kicked himself for what he was about to do: involving himself in other people's business again. Hawke closed the door and walked across the room to where Sabriel sat, her eyes closed as she massaged her temples.

"Is there something you need, Hawke?" she asked without opening her eyes.

"What's going on?" he asked, "There is something going on which is to do with the idol; it has got you all on edge. Tell me."

She opened her eyes and studied him. She was silent for a few moments before she let out a long, resigned sigh, "You have a right to know I suppose." she smiled grimly, "Sit," she commanded, patting a clear spot on the desk next to her, "it may take some time to explain it all…"

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><p><strong>AND THE PLOT THICKENS!<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**Yay - next chapter!**

**Not much to say this time... other than keep your eyes peeled for the treat at the bottom ^_^**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age etc.**

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><p>Whitby glared at the elf that stood outside the gates to the Warden Compound. He had seen the elf multiple times in the last few days, always loitering around like some street hooligan. The white-haired menace was back again. He had been standing outside the gates for at least ten minutes now, alternating between gazing up at the silver griffon, looking at the book in his hand and staring off into space.<p>

Fenris was having a sense of déjà vu.

It was only yesterday he had stood outside these very same gates, feeling the same sense of apprehension about possibly seeing the Commander again. But the book in his hand was a reminder of why he was here today. It needed to be returned the wardens' library. He almost forgot about it yesterday, accidently leaving it behind on the crates when he had left the market; too lost in his own thoughts to remember about it. It was only when he had arrived back at the Brass Arms that he had remembered, rushing back to the market to thankfully discover the book was still where he had left it.

Someone cleared their throat near him and Fenris flicked his gaze over to where the guard, Whitby, stood scowling at the elf.

"Are you here for a reason? Or are you just going to gawp at the gate all day?" The guard asked sarcastically.

Fenris fixed the man with a cold stare. "Where I choose to go and what I choose to do is none of your concern."

The guard shifted where he stood. "It is when you stand out in front of the compound like that, suspicious and all," he retorted.

Fenris fought the urge to strangle the guardsman. Instead he strode purposefully past the guard into the compound, returning the man's scowl as he passed. He heard Whitby muttering under his breath as Fenris drew farther away.

As Fenris navigated his way through the compound, he hoped fervently that he would not run into the Commander nor the mage from yesterday by chance. The Maker must have been looking down favourably on him today, a nice change considering the last few days, as he managed to return the book without incident. He was on his way back out when he caught sight of a familiar figure. Hawke stood where two corridors intersected, looking forlornly up and down one of the passageways; in the hope that he would be able to get his bearings in the maze that was the compound – with no success from the look of it.

"Hawke" Fenris said in greeting, the warrior turning at the sound of his name.

"Fenris" Hawke replied enthusiastically, clapping a hand against the elf's shoulder. "Thank the Maker you're here. I can't make heads or tails of this place."

"And you presume that I can?" Fenris remarked, watching as Hawke's face fell. "However I do know how to get out of the compound from here" the elf added, smirking at the forlorn Champion.

Hawke perked up almost instantaneously, "Well that's brilliant. I was worrying that I would be lost to wander these halls until I died from starvation." He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. It lacked the contagiousness that his smile normally had; the energy behind it.

Fenris studied Hawke's face, noting the fake smile and the tightness in his features. He had not seen Hawke like this since the confrontation between the mages and the templars in Kirkwall. Something was weighing down heavy on the Champion.

"Hawke?" Fenris enquired, watching as the fake smile faded away. The man before him looked tired, a jaded look in his golden eyes as he ran a hand through his hair. "What did the Commander want to talk to you about?"

Hawke sighed wearily, "It- What she said is hard to process. I am still trying to get my head around some of it."

Fenris felt a sense of alarm at Hawke's response, "What did she tell you?"

The Champion looked away. "Let's head back to the inn. I'll tell you as we go."

Hawke fell into step beside Fenris as the elf led the way out of the compound; he began telling the elf about what the Commander had told him. He detailed the strange circumstances regarding the fifth Blight, the incident with the sentient darkspawn called the Architect and the increasing numbers of darkspawn seen in the Free Marches.

"She just told you all this?" Fenris asked skeptically; some of the information Sabriel had passed onto Hawke could very well start a mass panic in the Free Marches and most of Thedas.

By now the pair were outside the compound, on their way back to the Brass Arms.

Hawke rubbed the back of his neck, "She said that she normally didn't divest warden secrets but I had a right to know, considering how intertwined the lyrium idol and the darkspawn seem to be."

"How are they connected?"

The warrior shrugged. "Grey Warden secrets apparently; even more secret than what she told me. Though I do know it has something to do with the singing Bartrand heard when he had the idol – the wardens all got skittish when I mentioned that."

Fenris raised a brow quizzically, "Singing? What does that have to do with darkspawn?"

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><p>"It's 'cause they can hear the Archdemon during a Blight." Isabela said without looking up from the cards in her hands "Apparently the Archdemon 'sings' and the wardens are able to hear it".<p>

Fenris and Hawke had returned to the Brass Arms only an hour earlier, retreating to Hawke and Isabela's room, away from prying ears. The Warden-Commander would be less than impressed if what she confided to Hawke ended up being the talk of the city. Hawke had only just finished telling the pirate about his meeting with the Commander that afternoon over a game of diamondback.

"One of the 'perks' of being a warden." Isabela added.

"Wait. How do you know this?" Hawke asked, disbelief written clearly on his face.

Isabela pulled a card out of her hand and placed it in the center of the table, "Information about the wardens themselves are probably the worst kept secrets in all of Thedas. Pretty much every man and his mabari knows, unless you're a country-bumpkin," she looked pointedly at Hawke, "or a slave like glow-boy here was."

"I don't believe you." Hawke said.

The pirate smirked, "Go ask your sister, I bet you a bottle of rum that I'm right."

Hawke ground his teeth together. He was tempted to take Isabela up on that offer, however her smug grin had put him on guard. Chances were that there was some element of truth in her tale.

"What else have you heard about the wardens?" Fenris asked, adding a card of his own to the pile.

"Curious about a certain elf warden are we?" Isabela purred, concealed laughter dancing in her eyes.

Fenris ignored the woman's jab. "I am curious about the wardens in general," he said curtly.

"Is that so?" she hummed, "Very well, all I know is fairly common knowledge. Apparently wardens can 'hear' the Archdemon, that is how they know when a Blight is on. They also can tell when darkspawn are nearby; they are able to sense them or something. The whole lot of them are absolute pigs, all of them have an appetite like a starved mabari and they're also all highly trained fighters. Only the best of the best are chosen to become wardens." She leaned forward, dropping her voice in an almost conspiratorially manner, "Also I heard that they make the recruits drink darkspawn blood."

Hawke exchanged a glance with Fenris, not buying it at all.

"It's just what I heard." Isabela said defensively.

"So what happens now?" Fenris scowled as Hawke set down a card, letting his own hand fall to the table in defeat. "You are not one to sit on the sidelines. Are you going to involve yourself, and inadvertently us, in this predicament?"

The Champion chuckled darkly. "We're already involved I'm afraid."

Isabela threw her cards down, "Why can't we just go somewhere and remain unnoticed and uninvolved?" she asked rhetorically.

"Because we would all get bored within a week and go looking for trouble." Hawke answered, studying the hand Isabela had had. Hawke laid his cards on the table, grinning at the looks of abhorrence on both Isabela and Fenris' faces as they caught sight of his bad hand. "Fooled you both."

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><p>Sabriel hated coming to the Royal Palace. It was due solely to the fact that Eamon forced her to dress in formal gear whenever she visited the palace, and unfortunately her warden uniform did not quite cut it. The stiff collar of the embroidered tunic cut into the underside of her jaw, forcing her to tilt her chin up a little to prevent it from digging in. It was tight and figure revealing; designed, no doubt, to prevent the wearer from breathing. And the shoes! Flimsy, pathetic things, decorated with small ribbons with ridiculous pointed toes. She had tripped more than once wearing the damned things.<p>

The whole ensemble was garishly coloured, as was the fashion. If she ever met the idiot who decided that apple green and burnt orange were vogue colours, she would strangle them.

She shifted restlessly as she waited outside King Alistair's office, incredibly bored. She knew every aspect of this part of the hall intimately; she had waited outside the door many, many times. Today her only solace from her boredom was to fiddle with the wrappings of the object in her hands. Servants hurried past, ignoring the Commander as they went about their duties. A pair of guards nodded to her respectively as they patrolled, the clanking of their armor quickly fading away as they disappeared form view.

Sabriel lent back against the wall opposite wall, glaring at the closed door. Hoping with all her being that the damned thing would open soon. Almost as if her mind had been read the door swung open to reveal one of King Alistair's aides. The man looked a little taken aback as he found himself being subjected to the Dalish elf's intense glare. He cleared his throat nervously before inviting the Warden Commander into the room.

She strode past the man; patting the uneasy man on the shoulder as she passed him, flashing him a small smile. He returned the smile anxiously. Her attention was drawn to the desk in the center of the study, the surface absolutely covered in stacks and stacks of forms. She could just see the top of a familiar head over the mass.

She let out a low whistle as she stopped at the desk. "You've got more paperwork than I do."

There was a muffled groan and the head lifted up to reveal the weary face of her old friend Alistair; King of Ferelden, ex-Grey Warden and ex-lover. "If I had known how much paperwork I had to do as King I might have refused the crown all those years ago."

Sabriel sat on a free corner of the desk, "Back when you were young and stupid?" she asked teasingly.

"Oh yes, ha ha. Laugh at the silly, naive little Templar warden." Alistair rolled his eyes, "Please, I have heard that a thousand times. Even the Queen is beginning to make comments."

"I don't suppose you have a few spare minutes to talk to an old friend?" she asked.

Alistair leant back in his chair, pretending to think it over, "I think I may have a few minutes to spare." He replied after a few seconds deliberation.

Sabriel grinned at the man she had once shared her bed with, studying the lines that had been added to the once youthful face. He had always been handsome and age had, if anything, made him more attractive. His oldest son was already displaying similar facial features to his father; and Sabriel guessed that young Prince Duncan would grow up to look like Alistair.

"I got you a little something." Sabriel said pulling the wrapped object in her hands into view "Since I am going to be away for your birthday, I thought that I would give you your present early."

The ex-warden took the present from her and began to unwrap it. Sabriel smirked as she watched his eyes go wide, a youthful sparkle filling his hazel eyes. "It is not as a high a quality as what you're used to, but I don't think the royal armorer can make anything like this."

He held the shield out in front of him, admiring it. "You… How?" He asked stunned, "Cheese… and griffons!"

She had a hard time not laughing out loud when tears began to fill his eyes.

"This is the best present I have ever received" he sniffed. "Ever."

She was not entirely expecting the man to rise to his feet suddenly and pull her into a bear hug, stacks of paper falling to the floor as his clumsy arms knocked them over. She patted his arm as she struggled to breath, between Alistair's hug and her tight tunic she was having a little difficulty getting air.

"Alistair…can't…breath." She croaked. The man let go of her quickly, giving her a sheepish grin as the elf gulped down air. "Damned tunic; damned thing will be the death of me."

Alistair admired the shield in his hands, grinning like an idiot. "This is just brilliant." He said, "A shield with a griffon and cheese heraldry. Where in Thedas did you get this?"

"I got it made specially." Sabriel said, sitting back on the desk. She eyed the fallen mass of paper on the ground, "Not the most bizarre requests he has gotten, so I was told."

Alistair shot her a skeptical look, "Cheese and griffons aren't exactly common heraldries, at least not together." He sat in his chair, placing the shield on the desk. He laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them, looking up at the Dalish woman. "I have known you long enough to know you wouldn't have come here just for a shield. There is something else."

She crossed her arms, "You know me too well."

"Sometimes that is not necessarily a good thing." He replied with a grimace, "I recall a certain encounter with an Antivan noble a few years back. I ended up having to order you to be locked up in the dungeons lest you inadvertently started a war between Antiva and us."

"Hey, he was the one who started it." Sabriel said quickly, "He was the one who couldn't take no for an answer."

"I know, I know." Alistair soothed, "So, what's going on?"

The Commander sighed. "It's not good," she said grimly. She told the ex-warden of the link between the sightings of darkspawn in the Free Marches and the Lost Thaig, including her conversations earlier with Stroud, Bethany and Hawke regarding the red lyrium idol.

Alistair's face was pensive as she finished, staring at the shield in front of him. The pair of them had encountered difficulties over the years, but nothing of this magnitude since the Blight had ended.

"Maker, does this mean…?" he lifted his eyes to meet hers. "What does this mean?"

"I'm not sure yet. I am going to leave for the Shaperate in Orzammar in a few days. If there is going to be any information on places like the Lost Thaig it is more likely going to be there than anywhere else."

"This is not exactly the best time for you to leave." Alistair grimaced, "With the trouble going on in Kirkwall, chances are that an Exalted March will be called sometime soon. I would rather have you here in Denerim when the call comes."

"I know. But as a warden, this is more pressing." She replied softly, "I hope that it does not come to a March. A war between mages and templars won't end well for either side."

Alistair slumped onto his desk, "By Andraste, I hope the war doesn't happen." He lifted his head to look at her. "At least there hasn't been any movement seen within the Ferelden circle yet. That's a blessing I suppose."

"Yet." Sabriel added, "Compared to other circles, the one in Ferelden is pretty good. The mages have had more freedom than they ever had in recent years, but I wouldn't rule it out as a possibility."

Alistair groaned, dropping his head back to the table. "Why can't you bring good news for once? Like they're giving away free cheese at the market or something."

She patted his head gently. "If only if it were so."

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><p><strong>Did you guess right?<strong>

**For those of you who did there is a link on my author page which will lead you to your prize!**

**For those of your who didn't... well you can look at it also :)**

**Please R&R!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Aaaaaaaand I'm back (finally). Sorry everyone it took me so long to get back to this story; a lot has happened since I last posted the last chapter and now. Uni, work, christmas, birthdays, babies and friends fighting... it has been a very very very busy time for me.**

**Now that it has all died down now I can now return my attention to the story again. Yay :D**

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><p>The Warden-Commander returned to the compound in gloomy spirits. In all honesty, she had forgotten about the imminent war between the Chantry and the mages – she had been too caught up with the darkspawn activity in the Free Marches. It would do little good to send wardens off to the Free Marches if the area was due to become a battleground in the near future. If an Exalted March was called, there would be essentially three armies in the Marches – the Chantry, the mages and the darkspawn.<p>

There was little she could do about an Exalted March, but darkspawn on the other hand… she was good at dealing with them. If the darkspawn could be defeated before the two armies clashed, then they would be able to prevent any extra death. There would already be too much death during the March.

The Maker was not her god, and Andraste's blessing had no meaning for her, yet Sabriel kept finding herself dragged into all sorts of religious disputes. She would inadvertently get dragged into the Exalted March in some way or another. What had happened in Kirkwall was a tragedy; the events of that night had tipped the careful balance between the tempplars and the mages. From what Hawke had told her, the lyrium idol's affects on Knight-Commander Meredith was to blame for the whole catastrophe… but Hawke and his companions were among the few who knew the whole truth. He would become one of the most wanted men in all of Thedas soon enough, since he was so central to the events of that night. Mages and Templars dead; abominations and demons running rampant through the city; innocents killed.

It had been a disaster.

Sabriel climbed the steps to the second floor of the compound wearily, making a beeline for the door to her quarters as soon as she reached the landing. She stumbled into her room and fell face first onto her bed. She stayed like that for what seemed like hours before she heard the soft clicking of claws on wood. She turned her head to watch wearily as Mahighan entered her room. He took one look at her before nudging the door closed with his head. He wuffed softly and jumped up on the bed next to her, settling down so that his head was level with hers.

The Dalish woman reached out and stroked his coarse fur, giving her faithful hound a weary smile. She whispered to him softly in elven, Mahighan let out a sigh and closed his eyes contently and quickly fell into slumber. She watched the old hound sleep for a while before forcing herself up and off her bed.

She settled herself in one of the padded chairs by the hearth, resigning herself to staring into the flames as she sorted her thoughts. She compiled a mental checklist of all she needed to do before her departure; people she needed to talk to, tasks she needed to do, forms she needed to sign. There was so much preparation to be done before she could leave; she missed the days where she could just up and go whenever it suited her.

For the most part, Stroud could fill in for her in Denerim while she was gone; the Orlesian had resigned himself to being her substitute for when business took her out of the city. Initially he had not been very pleased about the arrangement, but then again the man was not happy about a lot of things. In all the years she had known him, she had only ever seen him smile twice. For an Orlesian, he was rather serious and dour.

However, if she was going to be away for an extended period of time she would have to get another of the wardens to help the Orlesian with running the compound. Stroud may be a master swordsman and have the stubbornness of a mule, but the Orlesian and forms just did not mix. She had had suspicions in the past that that was the reason he had been sent to join the Ferelden wardens and not somewhere where he could take command of a group of wardens on his own. The man would do the paperwork but not at the speed and efficiency that was required and the papers quickly piled up. In that regard, Torsten could probably be given the responsibility of managing and signing the forms on her behalf.

A ringing sound echoed throughout the warden compound, breaking the elven woman out of her musing; the call for the evening meal. Her stomach growled loudly at the thought of food – ever predictable. She got out of the chair, weary muscles protesting, and headed to the door to her room. She hesitated at the door, looking back at the mabari sleeping on her bed. She smiled fondly at the hound before leaving the beast to sleep in peace.

The hall was as loud as usual. Wardens everywhere: chatting, eating, singing and just being merry. She paused and looked out over the hall, watching as her wardens, her family, enjoyed themselves. Humans; elves; dwarves; male; female. They were a diverse bunch but were tied together by bonds stronger than blood. If an Exalted March was called, or this incident with the red lyrium proved to be serious, then the sight before her would start becoming scarce. Wardens had the ability to make merry in the darkest of times; but if either of the worst case scenarios came to pass then even wardens would have a tough time disrupting the heavy clouds.

"Commander?"

Sabriel turned to see who addressed her, giving a half smile as Bethany approached the elf.

"Ah… about earlier…" the mage fidgeted as she reached the Commander's side, "my brother…did he…"

"No need to worry, Bethany. He wanted to know what was going on." She gave the younger woman a comforting smile, "In a way he had a right to know, so I gave him the rundown of the situation. Your brother seems the type of person who knows how to hold his tongue so I figured it was safe to divest the information. He knows the importance of keeping quiet; we wouldn't want to cause a mass panic just because of some mere coincidences."

"Is that what you think it is?" Bethany asked.

The elf grit her teeth, "It's too much to be a coincidence." she watched as the mage looked solemnly over the crowd of wardens, rubbing her arm absentmindedly. "Keep it to yourself for now. If it gets any bigger then the others will need to know, but for now it is best to leave it be."

"Yes Commander." Bethany replied.

She watched as the mage walked across the busy hall and sat next to Ivyanne. The rogue seemed to pick up on the solemn mood of her friend and glanced back curiously at where the Commander stood. Sabriel met the rogue's eye and shook her head. Ivyanne seemed to get the point and spun around quickly, drawing her gloomy friend into a lively conversation. The elf felt a little pang of jealously watching the two young women; she missed having someone to lean on like that. Alistair was King; Leliana was in Orlais; Zevran had disappeared a few years back without a word and Morrigan…

She felt like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, yet none of her friends were there to help carry the burden. She did not want to burden her fellow wardens with this kind of pressure if she could help it; if Bethany had not already been involved Sabriel would not had confided in the young mage. Stroud was a very quiet sort of man, preferring to keep to himself, and Torsten was more of her personal keeper than a confidant. Nathaniel, Sigrun and Oghren were at Vigil's Keep and Anders was dead.

All of a sudden she felt very alone.

She forced a smile onto her face as she joined some of her wardens at one of the tables, immersing herself in their conversation without hesitation.

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><p>After having all night to think about it, there were a few holes that Hawke had discovered in the Commander's tale. Pieces of information that had been left out – most likely on purpose – but that left him somewhat in the dark. Most of it had to do with the talking darkspawn the Commander had encountered years back. He had been mulling over the tale when he recalled his own meeting with Corypheus before his departure from Kirkwall.<p>

He had no idea how something so recent could have escaped his mind, especially after his conversation with the elven warden, but somehow it had. It had crossed his mind that the increase in darkspawn activity in the Free Marches may have something to do with the imprisoned tainted tevinter magister.

He, Isabela and Fenris sat in Commander Mahariel's office, the furniture now back in their usual place, as they waited for the Commander's return. Torsten had asked them to wait while the Warden-Commander finished up with some business. They had been waiting for a good half hour now. Eventually they had gotten fed up of sitting around waiting; so Fenris had buried himself in one of the Commander's books, content to read while they waited. Isabela had had, thankfully, the foresight to stash away a set of cards in her clothes – Maker knows where she had put them exactly – and she and Hawke were now in the middle of a game of diamondback. A game that he was not going to win, if the smug look on the pirate's face was anything to go by.

Without any notice the door to the office swung suddenly open and the elven warden strode into the room. She did not even glance at the three already in the room as she slumped into the chair behind her desk, dropping her head into her hands. Torsten and an old mabari followed the Dalish woman in. The young rogue's arms were full of papers which he dropped unceremoniously onto the desk.

"Just what I bleeding need." the Commander said dryly, looking up to glare at the stack of forms. She let out a long resigned sigh and slumped further into her chair. "Hawke, what do you need?" she said irately, "Be quick. I have a million and one things to do before tomorrow."

Hawke exchanged a quick glance at Torsten who gestured at him to hurry it up.

"Just before we left Kirkwall, we got involved with the Carta." Hawke explained, "They attacked me in my home."

The warden turned her glare to Hawke, "If you have come to all the way here just to tell me about you being attacked then you should leave now. I do not have the time nor the patience to spare." she said testily.

"There is a point." Hawke replied quickly, he was certain that the Commander would be interested in what he had to say. "Just hear me out. As I said: I was targeted by the Carta. However there was something wrong with the dwarves; it was as if they were possessed." Hawke quickly detailed what they had seen and what they had heard from the dwarves themselves.

The elven warden remained silent as she listened to his story. It was only when he began to explain his meeting with Corypheus that the Commander spoke.

"What did you just say?" she demanded, rising to her feet without warning; reaching out too grab Hawke's collar and pull him close "By the Dread Wolf, what did you just say?" she almost yelled.

"Corypheus, the one imprisoned in the tower, he was a talking darkspawn," Hawke replied calmly.

The Commander looked at him in disbelief.

"The wardens built the prison to contain him. I believe he was one of the first magisters to enter the Golden City. I talked to him and he acted like the Imperium was still the greatest power in Thedas." Hawke pried the elf's hands form his collar, her face paling and hands falling numbly to her side "He was one of the first of the tainted."

"How- how do you know this?" she said shakily.

"I was there, I saw him, talked to him. Killed him."

"He's dead?" Sabriel asked.

Fenris chose this point to join the conversation, "So we believe."

The Dalish elf flicked her gaze briefly over to the ex-slave before returning to the Champion. "This… is unexpected." she fell into her chair and stared at her desk.

Torsten slumped into a nearby chair, looking similarly shaken to his Commander.

"The wardens willingly kept this atrocity alive?" she asked, venom in her voice.

"Yes. I don't think they had the ability to kill him. He seemed he was able to manipulate the wardens to some degree, similar to the way he had controlled the tainted dwarves."

The Commander cursed, "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" she demanded angrily.

His golden eyes hardened "You haven't been entirely forthright either." he countered, crossing his arms as he looked down at the small woman. He watched as a muscle in her jaw tensed and her own eyes darkened.

The air in the room seemed to drop a few degrees as the pair stared at each other. Fenris and Isabela exchanged worried glances, shifting uncomfortably in the apparent tension in the room. It was deathly silent as the two powers glared at each other; a silent battle of wills waging between them.

The elf ground her teeth together in irritation, her hands gripping the edge of the desk so tight her knuckles were white. She let out a slow, shuddering breath as she battled with her anger, her eyes boring into the Champion's.

"I suppose I should thank you for sharing in this information," she said eventually, her eyes flashing, "despite its impromptu timing."

Hawke said nothing, nodding instead. Almost immediately the tension in the room disappeared and the onlookers let out a collective sigh.

"Is this going to change things?" Torsten asked from where he was seated, his voice waving as it filled the aftermath of the battle between the Commander and the Champion.

The elven warden was silent for a long moment. "No, I think not." she replied slowly, "This… Corypheus is dead." She sat in silence as she sorted through what Hawke had just told her, her brow furrowing as the minutes began to drag by. "But by the Creators, I do not like this at all." she said finally, "This red lyrium, the idol, one of the old magisters being imprisoned in the Free Marches, the increase of darkspawn in the area… this is all way to much to be co-incidence."

"Hawke." the Commander said sternly, "Where was this prison? Would you be able to locate it on a map?"

"Not exactly," he answered, "but I know where its general whereabouts would be." He walked around the desk to stand next to the Commander as she pulled a rolled up map from her desk drawer.

She unrolled it on the desk's surface and pushed her chair back so Hawke had better access. It was a map of the Free Marches with all the major darkspawn sightings and the presumed location of the Lost Thaig added. Hawke found Kirkwall on the map before drawing his gaze northeast until he saw the small black lettering of the name he was searching for: Vimmark Wastelands. He followed the wastelands westwards until he found what he was looking for.

"Here." he pointed at a particular point on the map, "The tower was around here somewhere."

The Commander quickly marked the spot on the map, frowning as she studied the new mark, comparing it with the older additions.

"They don't match up." Hawke said in bewilderment as Isabela tried to get a look at the map.

The pirate took the map out of the Dalish woman's hands, ignoring the amber glare that was cast her way. "It's nowhere near the Lost Thaig, or all those darkspawn sightings for that matter." She tilted the map as if it would magically reveal something, "What was the point of that?"

"A theory." the elf replied, snatching the map back. "It would not have been good news if Corypheus' prison matched up. However, since he is dead it means that the source of the problem is still out there." She laid the map back on the desk. "I am glad that that atrocity has been ruled out though. Darkspawn are bad enough and an old tevinter magister turned darkspawn running about would be the icing on the cake." she said dryly, "However the fact that something like… that was kept in the Free Marches is disturbing."

"It brings up the question, however: what if there are others like him out there? Being imprisoned in the same way?" Fenris said sourly.

Hawke shuddered, "That is a disturbing thought."

The Commander's face was grim as she continued to study the map. "I would not rule it out though; if he survived this long it is not unreasonable to presume that others have too. What I dislike the most, however, is that I did not know of this." Her face grew darker, "The fact that Weisshaupt kept a secret such as this from someone in my position does not sit well with me. Something isn't right here. It's too big, too dangerous to not tell Warden-Commanders."

"What is the next step then?" Hawke asked, meeting the Commander's gaze with his own golden eyes.

"Same as before." she replied, "I leave for Orzammar tomorrow at dawn. The Shaperate would be the best place to start for information regarding lost thaigs. I need to know what is attracting the darkspawn to that particular area and I am almost certain that the Thaig has something to do with it."

Hawke quickly exchanged glances with Isabela and Fenris; they both shrugged indifferently – they already knew where this was going.

"Care for some company on your trip?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Aaaaaaaaand here is the long awaited chapter. Yay!**

**This is long overdue, it really is. But… life, ya know? And also the biggest writer's block known to mankind EVER!**

**Seriously, I have been meaning to continue with the story; I knew where I wanted to go, and what I wanted to do – but the words would not just come! Normally these chapters write themselves, but not this one, no sir-ee. I lost count of how many times I rewrote this and how many times I just stared at a blank word document waiting for the words to come.**

**But finally I managed to write something I am mostly happy with. **

**I didn't want to write something that went *****poof***** they're at Orzammer. I wanted something that would express the passing of time without being too needlessly drawn out as some fantasy novels tend to do *cough* wheel of time *cough* and so this is what I ended up with. **

**The veil/fade thing at the end is totally non-canon – I couldn't find anything that strictly addressed what Ruben explains later in this chapter; it is all my own interpretation. Frankly, it has no relevance to the story at all (that I know of) and is just filler. **

**Chapter 14 is in the works so hopefully I will have it done in the coming weeks.**

**Thank you for your patience. :)**

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><p>It was only a little before dawn when the group left the Warden Compound; making their way through the deserted Denerim streets. The city was uncharacteristically quiet as the first rays of sunlight began to peek over the horizon. The pre-dawn air was crisp and chilly but the clear skies above promised a warm day to come. The weather was perfect for travelling.<p>

The morning had began with a small set back; more of an oversight on Sabriel's part in regards to the condition of Hawke and company's gear. Hawke and Isabela's gear had had to be supplemented with stock from the wardens' stores. Fenris, on the other hand, had required a complete overhaul. The sullen elf didn't even own a bedroll, let alone a heavy cloak for rain (in Ferelden rain was almost as certain as the sun rising each day), a tent, or even adequate clothing to keep him warm on the ascent up the Frostback Mountains to the entrance to Orzammar.

The elf had, begrudging, even added a pair of fur-lined boots to his pack after some of the wardens horrified him with stories of blackened toes falling off due to the cold.

Aside from Warden-Commander Sabriel, Hawke, Isabela and Fenris; the small group was made up of four other wardens and an eager warden recruit. As the small group navigated the empty streets Sabriel introduced them to each other.

Out of the four additional wardens there was only one familiar face: the Orlesian warden-mage, Ruben. He was introduced never the less. The other three unfamiliar wardens were comprised of a warrior and two rogues. The warrior was dwarf by the name of Trumble; a boisterous fellow with a vicious looking mace at his hip. The rogues were a pair of Dalish twins from the Alerion clan. Kaelem, the older of the two was a master of daggers, while Neena, his younger sister, was a master of the bow. The warden recruit was a young city elf by the name of Amos, recently recruited in Denerim. This trip would serve as one of his assessments.

They made good time as they left Denerim; the city growing smaller as the group followed the North Road as it weaved its way through farmland toward the Coastlands. As the sun began to rise in the sky, traffic on the road increased. Merchants travelling between Denerim and Amaranthine were the prominent users of the road; most were travelling by foot with big heavy packs on their backs although there were a few who could afford a cart and oxen. The rest of the traffic was made up by farmers, farmhands, travellers like themselves and a few military patrols.

It had been a while since Sabriel had travelled with such a small party, with only what they could carry for provisions. In recent years, whenever she had travelled, there had been carriages and wagons along with platoons of soldiers or wardens for company. Despite her protests, no one was willing to let the Warden-Commander travel without a sizable escort.

This time, however, was different. A large entourage with wagons would only slow them down.

Despite the stresses of the last few days, Sabriel felt herself ease up as the road weaved before her. This was what she had missed since her appointment to Warden-Commander; the endless road laid before her feet and the freedom to take whatever path she desired.

Under any other circumstances the dalish woman might have been tempted to take her time, take a few detours and just enjoy the trip. However if her suspicions were correct then the sooner she got to Orzammar, the sooner she might find a lead on the red lyrium and the lost Thaig and the sooner she could find out what she was dealing with. There were two many assumptions and unanswered questions; and she fervently hoped that the Shaperate would hold the information she sought.

She shook herself free of the dark thoughts that clouded her mind; she should enjoy her current freedom for now – there would be plenty of time to mull over bizarre relation between the darkspawn and the lost Thaig when she reached Orzammar.

She readjusted the straps holding Starfang and the Keening Blade to her back, letting out a long sigh, catching Hawke's attention at the sound.

"Tired already Commander?" the champion asked jovially; gold eyes twinkling with mirth.

Sabriel snorted, "Hardly," she replied quickly, "it's just been so long since I have had a chance to travel like this. Its refreshing."

"The chains of command are tying you down?" Hawke asked.

Sabriel let another sigh escape her; "Something like that. I didn't exactly ask to have all this responsibility."

A thoughtful looked passed over the human warrior's face, "Neither did I." he admitted, "Sometimes it feels like the world is full of incapable people and as soon as someone capable comes along everything gets forced upon them."

"I understand what you mean." Sabriel gave the man a grim smile; "Although one good thing about being Warden-Commander is that I can pass on those requests to the other wardens."

"Wish I could have done that." Hawke said, his eyes flicking back to where Isabela and Fenris were walking behind them, "I imagine if I tried to palm off requests onto my companions it would have ended up worse than it already was. Without my guidance they have the distinct ability to break things, get lost, burn down homes and cause general mayhem and chaos." he added with a laugh.

The dalish warden chuckled, "Sounds like your companions were quite the handful."

The Champion rolled his eyes, "You don't know the half of it."

They spent the rest of the day chatting amicably amongst themselves as they followed the road north; the surrounding farmlands slowly gave way to forest the farther away from Denerim the group travelled. The sun was hanging low over the horizon, just visible above the treetops, by the time they reached a small settlement. The settlement was essentially just a few houses and the largest structure was, by far, the inn.

The road split at the nameless settlement; the road leading north was visibly more travelled than its westwards counterpart due mainly to the fact that Amaranthine lay at the end of the northbound road. Following the North Road westwards there was a five day journey to the docks of Lake Calenhad; Orzammar was at least another two days travel further still. The stretch of road between the small settlement and the docks were rarely travelled by merchants; it was far more practical and a great deal safer to travel by boat from Denerim or Amaranthine to West Hill, only a day's journey from Lake Calenhad docks, and then travel to Orzammar upon the Imperial Highway or ship their wares to Redcliff across Lake Calenhad. Another viable option was to travel down the West Road to South Reach, hop on one of the ferries that navigated Drakon River to Lothering and cart their wares to Redcliff and beyond from the rebuilt town.

While the North Road was not the best option for merchants, for the warden's group it was easily the fastest route available. That said, the North Road was not without it dangers; mountains loomed to the north of the road and the dense forest to the south. Despite the efforts of the bannormen of the nearby holds there were still a number of bandits that lurked in the forests, along with wild wolves and bears that had been known in the past to attack unwary travellers.

The group spent the night at the inn at the nameless little settlement, rising early the following morning and following the North Road toward Lake Calenhad. The landscape became noticeably more rugged and the road less maintained the further west they travelled; the atmosphere of the land changing from carefree to eerie within hours of loosing sight of the inn. The change that did not go unnoticed by the group.

Everyone bar the dalish wardens seemed perturbed by the now eerie forests that lined the road on either side; casting frequent cautious glances at the dark tree line.

As the second day began to draw to a close Fenris felt his unease grow; if the land felt this inhospitable during the day, he shuddered to think want it would feel like at night.

He shared his feelings of unease with Hawke after they had made camp that evening.

Hawke looked up at him, chewing slowly on some bread as he listened to Fenris. "This is normal for Ferelden." he explained, gesturing at the trees that lined the spot they had camped with his free hand, "The untamed wildness of the land is one of the reasons the rest of Thedas thinks we're uncivilized; but it is also part of its charm. You'll get used to the eerie feeling eventually." Hawke spared another glance at the trees surrounding their campsite, "That said; I have never travelled along this road before and something does feel a bit off."

Fenris glanced around at the forest surrounding their camp, long black shadows dancing as the camp fire flickered and the unnatural, suffocating silence that blanketed the trees. He eyed the shadows, almost waiting for something to leap out of the darkness. The elf did not think he would be able to get used to _this_ anytime soon.

Trumble, the dwarven warden, overhearing their conversation, joined the Champion and the elf; sitting down next to them by the campfire; "I hear these forests are rumored to be haunted, " the dwarf said, dropping his voice conspiratorially, "apparently the dead of past wars wander these forests at night."

Fenris couldn't help the chill that ran up his spine at the warden's words; "There is no such thing as ghosts." Fenris said, trying to quell his own rising suspicions – the atmosphere of the forest was making it hard to control his overreacting imagination.

"That's what everyone says until someone disappears during the night." Trumble's grin appeared, "Next someone never returns from the latrine; strange noises begin to fill the air at night and the trees seem to move."

Fenris and Hawke both paled; the Champion laughing loudly trying to rid himself of his nerves, "You can't be serious?"

"I am deadly serious." the dwarf replied quickly, watching as the Champion's confidence faltered.

"He's deadly wrong." came a familiar voice as Ruben settled himself down next to Trumble; "Don't listen to a thing this guy says, its mostly lies or severe exaggeration."

The dwarf huffed loudly as the other warden spoiled his fun.

There was an amused light in the Orlesian mage's eyes as he continued, "In this case it is the latter."

Fenris' eyes narrowed as he studied the mage, "So you are telling us that the dwarf's stories are untrue, but there is an element of truth in them?"

"Yes." the Orlesian replied.

Hawke's golden eyes flashed between the two wardens, "I get the distinct feeling you two are leading us on."

"Who, us? Never." Ruben said aghast; a look of horror crossing over his face.

There was a similar look of disbelief of both Hawke's and Fenris' features.

Ruben leaned toward the pair, his voice dropping, "There are a few notable locations around here that have a dark history and the veil is thin." the Orlesian mage's brown eyes flicked toward the shadowed forest surrounding their camp, "The dead have been known to wander the forests after dark."

Fenris' eyes narrowed, "Demons." he growled out.

The mage gave a grim smile, "Although thankfully only low level demons can pass through the veil in these weakened areas."

"That's one thing I never understood about this veil thing," Trumble said, fixing the mage with a steady stare, "why is it that low level demons can pass through a tear or in areas where the veil is weakened, but not stronger ones? Would it not be more logical that stronger demons would have more strength to pass through the veil opposed to weaker ones?"

Ruben frowned, "Yes, logically, that should be true; however it doesn't exactly work like that… I am no master of metaphysics of the fade, but my understanding is that the veil is sort of like a wall of… honey."

Hawke quirked a brow at the warden mage, "A wall of honey?"

"It's not really like that;" Ruben replied quickly, "it's just the best analogy I know of. In the areas where the veil is normal it is really thick and near impossible for the demons to pass through unaided. However where it is weakened, demons can push their way through. The weaker and, thus, smaller demons can force their way through the weakened wall; whereas the stronger and, thus, larger demons need to exert more effort to pass through these weakened sections."

"Hang on, hang on." the dwarf said quickly raising his hands, "The smaller the demon is, the easier it is to pass through the veil, correct?" he waited for his fellow warden to nod before continuing, "Desire demons are smaller than both rage and sloth demons, but more powerful, so how does that work? Is it equally as easy for them all to pass through the veil, since the sloth and rage demons are larger but less powerful? Does it all sort of balance out or something?"

"No; when I'm talking about size I am talking figuratively."

The dwarf gave the mage a sidelong look, eyes narrowing, "I can see your mouth opening and closing, but I can't seem to understand a single word coming from it."

Ruben sighed, taking a moment to gather his thoughts, "A demon's 'size' is not its actual size, but its accumulated power. So a stronger demon has a larger power 'size', and that is what creates the difficulty when they try to pass through a weakened section of the veil. For some reason a demon's power 'sticks' to the veil, so the more power they have, the more they stick and the harder it is for the demon to pass through."

"Is that is why demons prefer to possess a host?" Hawke asked.

"Yes. Well… its one of the reasons." Ruben answered swiftly, a brief look of relief flashing onto his features as at least one person understood what he was trying to explain, "If a demon possess a person in the fade their host prevent from any of the 'sticking' when they pass through the veil into our world."

The frown on the dwarf's brow deepened, "Can't they just eat the wall to make bigger holes?"

Ruben ran a hand down his face, "It's not actually made of honey." he explained.

"Then why did you say it was." Trumble replied.

"I said it was an analogy."

The two wardens fell into a heated conversation; most of which was Ruben explaining to his fellow warden that the veil was indeed not made of honey. Fenris felt his unease disappear as the warden's conversation quickly became ridiculous as Trumble became more and more confused. Hawke joined in, trying to aid the mage in unconfusing the confused dwarf.

They had limited success however; and when they eventually retired for the night, Trumble was still confused and Ruben and Hawke were dead tired from trying to explain the analogy of the veil to the dwarf.


End file.
